#sometimes it’s better to just leave things be

[wqlfstqr]

◟𖥻 percy's girl : percy jackson

▰▰ pairing: percy jackson x fem!reader

Percy would let the world burn if that assured him y/n's happiness. Everyone knows it, except y/n herself.

warnings: jealous n overprotective percy, slight mentions of violence i really don't know if it counts, oblivious reader, no cabin mentioned for reader.

Everybody at camp halfblood knows by now not to mess with percy's girl— except, well, she isn't really percy's girl. At least not that she knew, but for everybody else? yes, she is his girl.

Hard to think about it in any other way when Percy walks around camp glaring at just anyone that even dares to look at her the wrong way. And when it comes to keeping her out of harm's way? He is practically a force of nature.

Percy doesn’t take y/n's happiness lightly, so anything that threatened that is handled by him without her even noticing.

She is probably the only person to come unharmed out of every Stoll prank, and it's definitely not for lack of trying. Connor and Travis like her enough not to pull anything dangerous, but that doesn’t mean they can let her get away without trying.

So everything was planned. A simple, classic, but effective bucket on the door. She only had to come out of her cabin for lunch and they would get her. Hiding in the bushes, Travis and Connor snicker once the door opens.

She is talking to Percy, that is walking behind her, but something makes him pause just when she steps exactly on the mark the Stolls had left. Percy clocks what is happening immediately, as if it was second nature, and he moves y/n out of the way just in time for the bucket to fall directly on him.

He ends up fully covered in chocolate syrup seconds later, but he couldn't care less. His only worry is— "you okay, sunshine?" he asks, wiping chocolate off his face.

She is, in fact, okay. But she's gaping at him, her eyes comically wide. "Oh my gods Percy, how did that happen?"

Oh he definitely knows how that happened, he can turn around right now and find the bush in which the Stoll brothers are hiding just by the sound of them snickering. He is going to kill them.

Still he shrugs. "I don't know, weird bucket placement." He replies casually. "Why don't you go ahead and wait for me in the pavillion? I'll take that bucket down."

"Weird things always seem to be happening around here, huh?" She raises her eyebrows, but happily obliged as she starts walking away.

Percy doesn't take the bucket down, he makes the Stoll brothers do it once he takes them out of their hiding. And the snickering doesn't last them much because as he's leaving, he glares at them. "You two better not try this bullshit with her again."

Listen, Connor and Travis are all about going against direct orders from everyone. But they don't try anything else after that, because Percy is scary when it comes to y/n and they are not about to end in the same position as that Ares son who had tried to flirt with her.

It had been after sword training, some Darren or Dane or something— Percy really did not care about his name, mostly because he was more occupied with glaring at him as he leaned a little bit too close to y/n.

He stood a few feet away from them, knowing that he couldn't intervene without y/n noticing but still fully preparing to do it just in case she got too uncomfortable. He knew her, she wouldn't say anything in fear of being rude. But Percy didn’t have that problem, he would gladly be rude if that meant keeping her safe.

So for now, he only stood with his back against a wall, pretending to sharpen riptide.

"You know, you should train with me sometime. I could teach you a few moves." He told her, smiling smuggly. Percy wished he could erase that smile right away.

And when she started hesitating, the son of Poseidon got ready to intervene. "um- I-" she stammered.

But Percy didn’t really have to do much, because as he was pushing himself off the wall, the Ares guy seemed to notice him, sharpening riptide and sending incredibly hard stares at his way.

Darren-Dane-whatever visibly gulped and took a step back. Percy smirked. Smart move.

As the boy excused himself and basically ran away, y/n blinked at him surprised before she turned to Percy. "Okay, that was weird."

Percy smiled innocently. "Right? so weird."

The next morning due to completely unrelated events, Darren-Dane-whatever ended up waking up in the lake, completely soaked without a single clue how he got there. Percy denied any relation to this weird incident.

Worst part about it all is that Percy swears people don't learn their lesson. While y/n is just walking around in her perfect sunny world, Percy is just following her, trying to maintain her world exactly as it is, free of assholes.

But gods dammit, those assholes don't make it easy for him.

When they're playing capture the flag, they end up on opposite teams and even though Percy is focused on getting that flag, he's also worried for her. He hasn't seen her around, but he knows she should be somewhere close because he has already seen some of her siblings running around.

It's only when he's close to the opposite team's flag that he finds her: she's supposed to be guarding the flag but she's crouched down near the lake, watching a butterfly that's perched on a flower, completely oblivious to the mayhem happening around her.

Percy stops abruptly, his heart racing at the sight. She looks completely at peace, lost in her own little world, the late afternoon sun tracing shadows on her face, it's like she belongs in a painting. So beautiful.

He's mesmerized for a second, flag completely forgotten. Then—

A blur of blue runs past him, pulling him out of trance. His mind barely registers one of his own teammates from cabin nine before the boy is already charging towards y/n at full speed, catching her completely off guard.

She rolls on the mud, almost falling into the lake and Percy is immediately running to her.

"Dude what are you doing? go take the flag!" His teammate yells at him, pinning y/n to the ground. Fuck the flag, Percy couldn't care less about it.

With almost too much strenght, he's pushing the boy out of her, sending him soaring through the air, an indignant yell before he lands with a splash right into the lake.

"Dude what the fuck? i'm on your team!" The Hephaestus boy yells as he clumsily stands on the lake, dripping wet and looking very displeased.

Without looking, Percy flicks his hand and a second later, a wave crashes into the boy's face. He doesn’t care about his protests, he's busy helping y/n up on her feet.

"Are you okay?" He asks, his hands cupping her face to make sure there's absolutely not one scratch on it.

She lets out a small cough, wipping mud from her face. "Yes? it's capture the flag, Perce. This is part of it."

He knows she's right, that doesn’t stop him from scoffing. "Yeah, well, what he did was unnecesary." They both look at the boy once again trying to stand up only to be met with another wave crashing against him.

This time, she realizes this is Percy's doing and gasps. "Percy!"

"What?" he shrugs innocently, wiping some dirt from her nose without any care for the other camper. "He looked like he needed some refreshing."

He ends up being dragged away by her, not that he puts any kind of restraint anyways.

Yes, maybe everyone at camp knows about him being just a little overprotective of her, but so what? he loves her— can't help it if he wants her to be happy and safe. The only one that doesn’t realize this is y/n herself, she's completely oblivious of his actions.

And she remains oblivious through it all; when she's thirsty after training and he's waiting for her with a water bottle, when she's hungry and he has her favorite snack ready, when campers are talking badly about her archery skills and with only one Percy-designated glare they immediately shut up before she can hear them, when he deliberately walks by the side closer to the magical borders just in case something dangerous happens.

It's always there, he's always there. And all it takes is overhearing a conversation for her to realize it.

She's outside of the Aphrodite cabin, waiting for Piper to go have dinner at the pavillion when she overhears some of the girls walking by.

"I mean, come on, Percy is literally the hottest guy at camp, don't you think?" one of them says, and she feels this bubbling jealousy in her chest— something she has never experienced before.

"Agree, but it's a little annoying that y/n is always around him." the other one adds. "I mean she's sweet but he probably finds her annoying how much she clings to him."

Her heart drops, is that what they think? is that what Percy thinks? that she's just this annoying girl clinging to Percy for everything?

Before she can overthink it, the first girl talks again. "I don't think he finds her annoying, he's like totally in love with her, obsessed even."

A third girl sighs dreamily. "Right? he's always so careful and protective with her, Dean from cabin five told me Percy was glaring at him for flirting with her, and the next day he casually woke up on the lake. Listen, he would totally let someone burn if she said she wanted to roast marshmallows."

A chorus of giggles follows, their voices dissipating as they walk away without even noticing y/n was there all along, trying to process their words.

Suddenly everything clicks in her mind. Every time that Percy seemed to just be there. Always at the right moment. Always with a solution to every single problem.

She's not dumb, she has known Percy was protective. But she always thought it was him just trying to be a good friend, surely he was the same with Grover or Annabeth? but now she was sure it was never the same.

Because neither of them has Percy following them around, treating them like they're the most precious thing in the word. That's only reserved for her, and it has taken her this long to understand it, realization crashing over her like one of those waves Percy used to almost waterboard the boy that almost hurt her during capture the flag.

Piper finally steps out of her cabin, apologizing with y/n for taking too long. But she's not even listening, she's already made up her mind.

Without even stopping to take some time to think it through, she turns around and ignores Piper's questions as she sprints towards his cabin.

She arrives just when he's stepping out of the front door, and she's running so fast that she can't stop herself in time before she crashes into him. Thankfully, Percy's senses are better than hers so he catches her by the waist before they both end up on the floor.

"Woah there." he says, and even through his confusion he still finds it in him to be concerned. "Did something happen, sunshine?"

He barely has any time to finish his question before she's grabbing his face and pulling him down to kiss him. He makes a startled noise, completely caught off guard because honestly that was the last thing he was expecting to happen. A couple of long seconds pass with him completely frozen but then— oh, then he's kissing her back, his hands finding her waist like they've always belonged there.

He can taste the strawberry chapstick he has always seen her put on, but the kiss also tastes like stolen glances and endless afternoons spent together, like a love that's always been there, just waiting to get noticed.

When she finally pulls back, too soon on Percy's opinion, he blinks at her. "Not that i'm complaining, but what was that for?"

Her heart is stammering against her chest as she offers him a small smile. "Some girl said you were in love with me?"

"Took you long enough to realize." he replies simply before pulling her close again, his lips finding hers as if this was something he had been born to do.

And she can feel it, in the kiss, in the way he holds her— Percy Jackson loves her. And the best part? She loves him too.

[tojisteddy]

Cry Baby | 1.4k words (gawd damn), 18+ mdni, smut with a little plot, dacryphilia, daddy kink

Simon Riley is used to making people cry.

Whether it be from heartbreak, his tall and muscular build in addition to the mask scaring children, from being too blunt, cursing men & women out, making them feel too good when he’s stuffed them full of his cock— he was used to the tears.

But you, you were an anomaly.

Sometimes you’d cry when Simon was being too mean, cry over a good movie— tears would brim to your lashes when he’d kiss you after you two would make up because you were stupid in love with the brute. But sometimes you’d hold it. A trait that Simon hated because it was like he was dealing with a different person.

He knew you were off when the two of you went shopping (for your closet of course) and you didn’t say much except ‘I like whatever you like Si.’ You’d be in and out of conversation, ‘hm?’ and ‘what’d ya say?’ constantly leaving your mouth. He’d already known you we’re past your limit, but you wouldn’t say a word. Usually by the first or second day you’d fess up on your own, voice horse, gripping at his shirt, big brown eyes averting his own because you were too embarrassed. ‘can we- can we talk? just for a bit?’

His cute princess.

But now, a week had passed. He expected to hear those heart aching sobs after he heard you telling off your younger German shepherd, Fish (yes, Fish) to ‘let go’ and ‘it’s mine, Fish!’ He’d found the dog with your favorite worn out sweater, now ripped and tattered, in his mouth as he laid on the couch. Not a peep came from your lips. So the man was forced to push you to talk. Not an issue. He’d done it before.

“Got somethin’ y’wanna say t’me?”

You glanced over at the older man. He was leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest and looking at you dead on. You shifted on your feet. You hated when he stared, it was like he was reading you like a book and tarring out the pages for good keeping.

You went back to getting the dog food ready for their last meal of the day, “nope.”

Stubborn. Simon found it funny sometimes when you picked up some of his traits, that included that stubbornness that popped out when you were agitated. But you weren’t supposed to be like Daddy, no, you’re supposed to be better. Simon would make you better.

“Don’t be hard headed swee’ art. Y’know better.”

He’d practically pushed you into a corner with his words alone. It wasn’t just intimidation, it was a clear warning. You needed out. So you spoke whatever words were at the forefront of your mind.

“Then I just don’t have anythin to say to you.”

The man was dumbfounded, head tilting to the side in awe. He didn’t expect that answer of all things and you casually went to go feed the dogs like you hadn’t said anything. A deep chuckle fills the silent walls of the kitchen.

Cute little thing. Loveable thing. His babygirl.

You didn’t wanna cry? Didn’t wanna talk? Fine.

Simon would fuck it out of you.

“Wait- hmph- w-wait Daddy I don’t-“

“Y’talk now? Thaaa’s a shocker.”

“No- I- s’tooooo much Daddy! I don’t like it like-nnnggh this!”

Simon rolled his eyes, of course you didn’t like it. It was when you felt undeniable, inescapable pleasure. He’d have you in a headlock, all of his weight completely pressed against you, rolling his hips as his girth stretched out your sweet pink walls. The room was completely filled with your moans and the smacking of his balls hitting your ass as he bottomed out with each stroke.

How many times had you cum already?

It didn’t fucking matter if tears weren’t coming out yet. And he wasn’t just aiming for those regular small ‘feel good’ tears, he needed those belligerent sobs that made your throat hurt. The blonde liked to call it ‘regulating emotions.’ When you couldn’t do it yourself of course Daddy would help. What else was he there for?

Your eyes were at the back of your skull, long manicured nails clawing at his arm and trying to get ahold of yourself. You felt delirious and you’d only cum twice but Simon kept pushing you like he wanted something out of you. The truth, you shook your head at your own thoughts. No way, you were fine. This was— god, the bastard, the ghost himself was dragging himself in and out of you, in and out, harsh and slow. Just so you could hear the squelching of your sopping cunt and get you completely embarrassed and moaning at the sound.

“Si- let’s- a break— mmmgghhh- we- oh fuck daddy- break? annngh p-please?” You whined out.

“ ‘Nd why would y’need a break when you’ve been a lazy fuckin bitch this whole time?”

A military man who could lie in an instant.

He hadn’t told you to do a single thing tonight but he needed a reaction out of you. He scuffed, pulling his strawberry red dick out of you with a loud ‘pop’ and turning you on your side. Throwing one of your legs over his shoulder and straddling your other thigh. He slapped his aching tip on your drenched hole, there you were clenching over nothing.

“Didn’t wanna talk this whole time but now ya got shit to say.” Simon slammed every fucking inch of him inside of your oh-so tight cunt making him throw his head back. “The fuckin nerve of ya.”

“I- wait-“

“-Thought ya were my good girl, but you’re just a stupid slut for daddy’s cock.”

A hiccup.

He looked down at your pretty face and- oh. there it was. There it fuckin was. That sickeningly adorable trembling pout on your two tone lips, real tears spilling out of your eye ducts and meeting the pillow as he repeatedly slammed into your gushing walls. Was it sick for him to crave it? Yes. But the big guy couldn’t help himself, he loved seeing pretty girls cry for him. Even better when he had a good reason to get it out of you. You felt the knots in your stomach building, even worse as Simon pressed a hand on your stomach as his dick poked out. A string of grumbled curses leaving his mouth at the feel of it.

You gasped, pushing at his abdomen, “Daddy nooo- it’s really too much! I- I-”

“—Nuh-uh. Stop fightin it and give it t’me. Give. It. To. Me.”

Your orgasm was harshly yanked out of you, screaming at the top of your lungs— thank fuck you two lived in the middle of the woods. You’d finally let that week old sob out of your throat, fat salty tears spilling out at everything because you really did feel everything at the moment. All the sadness was now washing over you like a wave mixed along with the high of cumming. An insane combination.

“Therrrre you go pup. Creaming all over me, all while bein so. damn. pretty. Want my cum baby girl? Hmm? Shit baby, you wanna feel full with Daddy?”

You couldn’t even find your words, just pulling at his hips to feel him deeper inside you. And it was so warm, so- loving when he came inside you, Simon making sure you took every drop till you couldn’t anymore. He cupped your face in his big hands, wiping away the tears that continued to fall. So fuckin cute. He’d sit you up, still on his cock of course, leaning back with his propped up arms and peering down at you.

“Gonna tell me what’s wrong or it’s still not for your Daddy t’hear?”

You sniffed, big brown puppy dog eyes looking up at the man full of scars.

“E-everyone-“ you let out a shaky breath, “everyone’s so damn mean Si.”

And you went on and on about your completely shitty week, from your job, to missing the train right when you needed it to Fish ripping apart your favorite fucking sweater. And Simon was there, attentive but silent, listening to every word uttered. Wiping away the stray tears with a thumb and pinching your cheek. His silly girl, adorable princess. Held it in for nothing, as if he wouldn’t be there to comfort you. Silly, silly girl. He’d fix that too, but for now—

“Want me t’take care of ya? Hm lovie?” His lips met yours, fitting the two like a missing puzzle piece. You wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing the blonde man closer and pressing yourself against him. You didn’t say a word. You didn’t have to.

He snickered against your lips, “Course ya do, baby, course ya fuckin do.”

a/n: kinda on Simon kick. Also the gaggery of my last post about him. Thank you guys so much. You probably won’t read this again but reading while listening to Cry Baby by SZA or Janis Joplin>>>

most recent masterlist

[dollzites]

⏦ﾟ♡︎ “we could get a bit more risky if you’d like”

୨ৎ pairing: boyfriend!seunghyun x fem reader

୨ৎ genre: fluff! suggestive! perfect mix of heart warming, sweet, and spicy!

୨ৎ summary: seunghyun’s always been the type to tease, be affectionate, and act cute with you not caring who sees or hears. sometimes it becomes a bit too much and that’s when your shyness hits an all time high and your forced to playfully push him away but.. he never budges. this is seunghyun we’re talking about.

୨ৎ from myeong: hello!! so happy to be taking this request of course! anything for sweet seunghyun 🥹 I hope you enjoy this!! x

seunghyun stands in front of the crowd giving a small speech about how excited, delighted, and satisfied he is with all the squid game love. your glossed lips curl up into a gentle smile watching him turn into a man that you’ve always dreamed of seeing, a man that is much happier, confident, and comfortable being himself. it took many years of hardship and a tight bond you both had to get him to this point but it was well worth it. marriage wasn’t something that was constantly on your mind but the thought of marrying him and giving him a child sounded like a life you could definitely start living. as seunghyun finished up the speech he bowed and made his way over to you his arms immediately wrapping around your waist, pulling you into his chest like he loved doing so much. shocked? just a little bit. being on the much shyer side had always gotten in the way of his pda but he found it insanely adorable and that’s why he continued such pda just to see your cute expression every time he’d kiss, touch, or grab you.

“I’m so proud of you.” the whisper sweetly leaves your lips and you press a gentle but quick kiss to his cheek before pulling away completely—or at least tried too before his strong grip pulled you back into him, “where’s my girl goin’ hm? not leaving me so fast.” his deep voice always sent chills down your spine and thankfully the crowd around you weren’t too focused on the scene that played out in front of them. slipping your hand around his much warmer one and pulling him towards the table you both sat at before he was called up to speak, seunghyun stopped you before you could sit back down with a evident smirk across his thin lips. “what—” not being able to finish when he pulled you into his lap letting his hands find your waist rubbing at the thin fabric of your sundress he picked out for you to wear. “I think it’s only fair that everyone here knows we’re together.” a light chuckle left him and you playfully rolled your eyes, “don’t you agree? I mean.. we could get a bit more risky if you’d like.” and with that his lips found the back of your neck placing a few open mouthed kisses to the soft skin before pulling away and blowing on the area, “seunghyun! people can see us..” a giggle left your lips despite trying to sound irritated at his behavior, he knew that you loved it.

“this dress looks so good on you..” and just as you were about to reply to him lee jungjae walked up and took a seat in front of you both only causing warmth to rush through your entire body—just a bit embarrassed by how you had been sitting on your boyfriend’s lap at an event. slowly seunghyun started to speak with him about how difficult filming for this season was for the both of them, finding yourself playing with his long fingers that had been wrapped around your waist tapping in a gentle manner. although he had been doing so much better the anxiety still took over at times and with you here it was a way to calm himself down and know that things were perfectly safe and sound.

another man walked up and grabbed the attention of jungjae which meant seunghyun was no longer interested in their conversation and his head turned to you, leaning in to press his lips against your own. this had been the most affectionate he’s ever been in public and you couldn’t wrap your head around why. “is everything okay?” you asked quietly before his lips pressed against yours again in a almost possessive way. “mhm, always.” his reply was short and sweet because he wasn’t finished with you just yet large hands finding the top of your bare thighs and giving them each a squeeze. at this point it felt like it was just you two here until you heard the familiar voice of lee byunghun and immediately stood from his lap, bowing to the older man in front of you. “I see he can’t keep his hands off you.” byunghun chuckled enjoying how much in love seunghyun was with you and you turned to give him a playful glare before sitting down in your own seat although it didn’t take seunghyun long to take ahold of your hand and pull it towards his lips pressing a few kisses to each finger. “you’re being so affectionate, why? I’m not complaining but.. people have been looking at us for a few minutes now.” a deep chuckle left his chest and he took the time to look around at said people who were supposedly staring at you both.

“who cares, my love. can’t a man be in love with his gorgeous girl and show intimacy, hm? it’s not like we’re having sex on the table.” and you reached over to slap at his chest not believing the words that just came from his lips, especially with byunghun right in front of you two. seunghyun shrugged his broad shoulders before standing up and pulling you up along with him, “why don’t we go dance? or maybe we can take a short bathroom break? and no we won’t be using the bathroom.” an annoyed groan left your lips and he pulled your back towards his chest letting his arms wrap around your waist, “oh hush. I know you enjoy this too much.” his voice against your ear made your knees weak and you slowly nodded your head not wanting to nod at all and agree with him but that would be lying.

[grimmweepers]

— ★ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you were only a week away from marrying alhaitham when you had a very strange encounter with his long-passed grandmother. one that felt far too real to be just a dream.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: alhaitham x gn!reader, SFW, alhaitham is not physically in this until the end but he’s mentioned a lot, dialogue heavy, fluff, COMFORT, references to character story 5, dream fic, alhaitham’s lore, mention of death (his parents), reader has akademiya background (implied), established relationship (obv), very self-indulgent, wc: 2.0k | masterlist

a/n: i suddenly got this idea after posting this

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You don’t remember coming here.

Beneath your feet, the soft earth felt undisturbed. Leafy vines curled into paths that seemed to stretch on forever, and as though time had paused indefinitely at dusk, a gold and violet sky blurred the edge of the world into a dream-picture haze. 

A breath of warm air brushed your skin, not unpleasantly so but still, it buzzed with something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. 

There was no doubt this was somewhere you had never visited yet you do not question the presence of that bountiful, fruit-bearing tree behind you. Nor do you question the stone bench where you sat, which was dotted with patches of orange light from a sun you could not see. 

In its brief passing, the wind carried the rustling of leaves and the distant laughter of unseen children. 

Somehow, even in its unfamiliarity, everything felt exactly as it should be. 

“Seems like your mind’s wandering, my dear,” a sudden voice broke the quiet. 

You turned your head, surprised to find an elderly woman sitting beside you with her hands folded neatly in her lap. 

How long had she been here? 

Better yet, how long have you been here?

The woman regarded you with eyes that held a plethora of stories and her hair, silver with age, was pulled back into a simple style. She had an air of wisdom about her that only came with time and a life well-lived. 

You couldn't decipher the ease you felt in her presence. It was like you’d known for her much longer than the mere moments you just shared. You should’ve asked where you were, who she was, what this place was. But instead…

“The wedding…” you realised, belatedly, that you were confiding in a stranger. She hadn’t asked, hadn’t mentioned anything, and yet for some reason, it seemed the only thing worth saying. “The wedding is in a week.” 

The woman remained neutral, waiting, listening.

“And I…” you frowned as you collected your thoughts. “There’s still so much to do. So many people to please. Sometimes I think about canceling everything and running away with him. I think he feels the same.” 

You spoke of your worries so effortlessly, that the woman could only nod as if she was meant to hear them. 

“Ah,” she hummed, you could feel her searching for something inside of you. “So you are the one.” 

“The one?”

A deep smile had settled on her face as she chuckled, “The one marrying my grandson.” 

You lost sense of everything. 

Now that you looked closer, you saw the resemblance. The sharp cut of her eyes, the peak of her nose, her iron glare which was softened by her warm complexion. 

Pieces of Alhaitham were etched into her like scattered ink on an old page. 

“You’re his… grandmother.” 

She nodded again, and you felt your heart beat faster and faster. There was no coming out of this conversation unscathed, not when your fingers began to fiddle like that. 

Alhaitham spoke about his family sparingly but only as an acknowledgement for the past rather than a wound to be reopened. You knew that both of his parents were scholars who died in a tragic accident when he was young and that his grandmother was the one who raised him during the bulk of his pre-adolescence. 

Said grandmother watched you carefully as she continued to smile, “It’s good to finally meet you.” 

“It’s an honour,” you said softly. 

She waved a hand, amused but appreciative of your good manners. “No need for formalities, my dear. I just wanted to see the person who managed to keep up with that boy.” 

“He’d say it the other way around,” you began to chuckle. It was refreshing to have someone else tease him so fondly. If only Alhaitham was present to hear his grandmother. Your chest stopped fluttering. His grandmother. 

Why were you with his grandmother? 

“Of course he would,” she replied back, shaking her head. “That child was as brilliant and stubborn as parents. If not more. I used to say that one day, he’d argue with the sky about whether it was blue.” 

You couldn’t help but grin, “He still would.” 

A hearty laugh came tumbling out of her like she was elated to know her grandson was still the grandson she knew, “My dear, may I share a few stories with you—”

“Please,” you accidentally interrupted. 

Immediately, you flashed her an apologetic look but she understood the excitement. Some skeletons would remain forever in the closet if Alhaitham ever deemed them unworthy to share.

“Very well.”

“Did you know,” her voice suddenly dipped into nostalgia, "When Alhaitham was a child, he would sit in my study for hours, reading books far beyond his years? Whenever he discovered something new, he would come to me, eyes alight with curiosity. He never sought praise. He simply wanted to share what he had learned.” 

You could picture it so clearly. 

Alhaitham as a boy, sitting beside her with his little hands gripping a book, his teal eyes burning with all the wisdom a child could hold. You smiled as though the fond memory were yours. Then you sighed, “It seems he hasn’t changed at all. He still does that, too. Even now when he finds a particularly interesting theory or text, he’ll tell me about it. Even if I don’t quite follow” 

Her eyes twinkled as she let out a softer laugh, “That is how he loves.” 

You believed it. 

“Is… it true you were a scholar as well?” 

That fact has always piqued your interest. 

“Correct,” she nodded but did not elaborate immediately. Instead, she tilted her head and studied you. “Tell me about yourself. Who are you, to have earned Alhaitham’s regard?”

Caught off guard, you found yourself nervously unfolding everything. You spoke of your life, of your time in the Akademiya, of how you had met Alhaitham. His grandmother listened attentively, occasionally chiming in with her Ooo’s and Ahh’s like a young girl indulging in gossip for the first time. 

“You must be quite remarkable,” she finally said. The praise made you feel a type of shyness you hadn’t felt since you were also a child yourself. 

She paused before adding, “I was a member of Kshahrewar, long ago. Though my specialty lay in engineering, I always admired the tenacity of those who pursued pure knowledge. It seems he inherited that hunger. I see it in the way you speak of him.”

“He’s certainly strong-willed but people tend to forget he shows his kindness in his own way. He wears his heart on his sleeve more than most people know,” your eyebrows perked, “I suppose that’s why I’m marrying him!” 

Marrying. Marrying. Marrying. The reality of it rattled and reverbed in your head. 

For the first time, her expression shifted to surprise before it melted into something serene and tender. Something prouder. 

“You remind me of his mother.”

You wondered how you appeared to her when she said that because you failed to notice the tears that came like the rush of tide. “In what way?” You struggled to ask.

“She had the same light in her eyes when she spoke of his father,” she said, “And the same warmth when she looked at her son. When she loved you, her smile always beckoned you.” 

A cork felt like it was lodged deep in your throat when you tried to speak, “She sounds…” 

Wonderful, was what you were meant to say but her remark from two seconds ago still left you blundered and muted. You had never known his mother, Alhaitham barely knew his mother, so you couldn’t even fathom carrying a part of her with you.

His grandmother’s gaze lingered on you before she asked with utmost intention, not expecting you to finish your sentence, “What brings you light? What do you love?”

An odd question but it brought you back to her, “You mean about him?”

“No no,” she said, wiggling a finger at you, “About yourself.” 

You blinked.

So much of your life these past weeks has been focused on your wedding and your future with Alhaitham. While it was joyful, overwhelming, beautiful, all of the above—somewhere in the midst of it all, you hadn’t stopped to ask yourself this.

“I…” You thought for a moment, then smiled when the answer came to you. “I love learning. Not just from books, but from people. From Alhaitham, from those around me. I love how it changes us—connects us. And I love life because I still have so much to discover from it.”

Taking everything into consideration, his grandmother mused, “Good. You’ll be a fine match for him.”

A breeze stirred the air, carrying the scent of something far away, and her expression turned thoughtful, “You know, I once left him a message in one of his books.”

Aware of the message she spoke of, you stiffened. 

Whenever he allowed, you had read those words over and over, traced them with careful fingers, and wondered about the woman who had written them. What kind of person was she? What had she seen in him, in the world, to leave behind such a wish?

“May my child Alhaitham lead a peaceful life—” 

Yes, it sounded surreal when it finally came paired with a voice. 

But then, she reached for your hand. Her grip was warm, comfortable, achingly real. Not physically but the kind of real that imprinted itself onto the very fabric of life.

“—with you by his side.”

The message drifted beyond the confines of ink on a page, stepped out of the past and into the limelight of the present, spoken into existence just for you.

That part had never been written.

That part belonged to you.

“Take care of him,” she advised you kindly, though you needn’t a reminder, “And let him take care of you, too. Peace isn’t something that should be carried alone.”

“I will,” you beamed in return. 

When you said that, it occurred to you the realm around you was beginning to fade into a colourless void. The sky paled into nothingness. The warmth in the air waned into a ghostly chill.

His grandmother exhaled, almost a sigh.

You tried to hold onto the moment, “Will I see you again?”

“The world is a strange place,” she said. “Maybe you will. Maybe he will.”

A final gust of wind swept through, and the last thing you remembered was her wide and true smile. 

Then, complete darkness.

———

Morning light bled through the curtains once you woke. The scent of crisp air and traces of coffee filled your senses as you slowly adjusted to reality. For a moment, the fog of sleep still clung to you, until you felt the bed dip beside you.

Rolling over, you found Alhaitham lying next to you with one arm propped behind his head, a book resting on his bare chest. He wasn’t reading, though. His eyes, sharp even in their drowsy state, were waiting for yours to meet them.

“You were mumbling in your sleep,” he remarked, voice still hoarse from the criminal hour of the morning. “Something about our wedding and my grandmother.”

You swallowed thickly. The memory of her laughter, her words, her warmth—everything had felt so tangible. You hesitated, your fingers curling against the sheets as you struggled to make sense of it all.

“It was… a dream.” Though, it sounded more like you were trying to convince yourself. Your words wavered as if saying them aloud would make them true.

Alhaitham regarded your answer for some time before pursing his lips, closing his book with a small thud. “Was it?”

You looked at him then, really looked, and for the briefest moment, you swore—swore you could see it in his eyes.

A flicker of recognition.

Perhaps he had seen her too.

The world was a strange place, after all.

© 2025 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform.

divider: @/adornedwithlight

[goinggoingghone]

hreh. pushes up my glasses and cracks my knuckles, dusting off the cobwebs of this blog.

~~~

There's a boy in the alleyway.

Well, that's already been established. There's a boy producing inhuman sounds that crack through his skull like a baseball bat, and he's in an alley by himself. Statistically speaking, in Gotham, this is a normal night. Children wander, especially in a city as violent as Gotham. He might not have parents.

The screeching and trilling and crying is a new one, so Tim checks it out.

He's not Robin tonight, having gotten out of a meeting particularly late (he hated going to investment meetings, he always had to convince the shareholders that sometimes being helpful was more important than profit), but the drive to protect a kid by himself is too strong to ignore. He comes closer, but doesn't get far in at all before the boy's head snaps up and wild red eyes bore a hole through him.

Immediately the boy pushes off the ground, his legs fusing into a long, winding black tail. He hisses, his white hair crackling like a flame and his teeth bared with impressive looking flames. He's in Tim's face in a flash, a growl reverberating through the alley.

What the hell.

A little thrown off, Tim and the boy (who, now that he's got a better look at him, looks around sixteen or seventeen) stare at each other for a few seconds. The boy---meta(?)---unsure why Tim hadn't fled, and Tim stunlocked by the sudden shift in behavior.

"Haven't you got the memo, runt?" His voice is low and crackly, thick with rage and choked with tears. "Scram."

"Uhhh," Tim starts, nose to nose with a snarling blue creature that probably shouldn't be this close to him, "Dude. No offense but if you didn't want anyone to come find you why were you screeching like that."

The boy blinks, his face still keeping its sneer, and then he huffs, the sound echoing. "Who's asking?"

"Me? I'm right in front of you. Look, I've had a long night, man, so like... I don't know. You seem like you're having a worse night than I am. Feels bad to just leave you when you're, uh, doing whatever you were doing." He can feel a headache building behind his eyes. He's unsure of why he's still talking to this thing, but he's admittedly kind of curious what's going on.

The creature-boy-meta-thing narrows its-his eyes, the flames of its hair calming. "And who are you?"

"...Tim." He doesn't think it's particularly important to give his full name here, and might even be counterproductive. In his experience, scared kids usually don't react very well to the presence of a billionaire.

"Tim. That's a stupid name. Tim. No. I'm gonna call you Scalpel. Way cooler name. You're welcome." The boy's sneer morphs into a wide, sharp, frankly terrifying grin full of dagger-like teeth.

"Scalpel. Okay. I can work with that. Sure." He feels like he's getting somewhere with this. He just has to play his cards right. "Do you got a cool name I can call you?"

The creature turns over to float on his back, brandishing claws covered by thick, white hazmat gloves.

"Phantom. Dan Phantom."

Short DPXDC Prompts #654

The eerie cries and screeches fill the air. Grating trills and chuffs that make the ears ring and ache. Tim expects a fight when he approaches the source of the sound but to his shock and horror, he finds a boy roughly his age curled into a ball sobbing into his knees.

[bunni-v1]

relating to your last ask that included arguments between shadow milk and his lover, i cannot get the following picture out of my head:

his doll, while a bit (a bit more) off-put by the whole truthless recluse situation, is very much "whatever, their soul jam, their business" about it

however-

what grinds their gears is the fact that kids (aka the gingerbrave gang) are involved

i can just imagine them going off on shadow milk like "listen, i get it, your plans but they are kids. literal children?? keep them out of this-" "no, doll, listen, they're scheming kids-"

ik this isn't really an ask, but i just wanted to share it :)) love your writing, you're amazing, and your shadow milk headcanons live rent free in my brain (actually i am paying them-)

Lolololol (Feel like a mysmes character typing ts... okay), I guess we can say this is ur rent. I'm happy for your payment though, it's good food for thought my love! Have a little midnight snack as a treat!

Just imagine you're someone who's more compassionate. It's something that Shadow Milk Cookie cherishes about you... when it's directed at him. You're always worrying over him and his little henchmen, Candy Apple especially since she's so young. It's annoying, but it's sweet how much you dote on them, and he can't say he dislikes the idea of you in a more parental role...

It becomes an issue when those little pests come around. You've never nosed your way into his business at all, leaving things between him and Pure Vanilla to be what they are. He prefers it like that, keeping you out of trouble was always a positive on his mind. Oh, but then those cute little annoying snotty nosed brats come along and ruin everything.

It wouldn't have been an issue if you hadn't overheard him threaten to drown them. It not like he was actually going to, he was just poking at Truthless Recluse, that's all. You didn't take it though, you were all kinds of pissed off at him.

He thinks it's a silly thing to be upset about, you know he didn't care enough about those kids to do much of anything to them. Yet, you remain upset, even after things are done and Compassionate Pure Vanilla has TEMPORARILY taken him and his plans down. It stumps him, he can't possibly wrap his mind around what's gotten into you. Such a small insignificant act is nothing compared to half of what you've seen him do.

When you refuse to say more than a few words to him, he starts to worry. What did he do wrong? Well, you told him, but why was it so bad this time? The best answers come from the source, of course, but getting it out of you might be a little harder than he likes.

"Doll? Dolly? Little star? Won't you talk to me?" He pouts, trailing behind you like a lost puppy.

You might've teased him if you weren't so upset now. You keep your nose upturned, doing your best not to crack under his relentless pressure. He could be so persistent about these things, and normally you would give, but he'd crossed a line this time. You didn't mess around with children, and he should've known better.

A drawn-out sigh comes from behind you, "Are you still upset about the drowning thing? It was all in good fun I promise! Nothing to worry your pretty little head over!"

He didn't know better, though. For the former fount of knowledge -- and someone who could literally read minds if he wanted to -- he was terribly unaware sometimes. It made you so angry, and you felt bad for being angry because he really didn't get it.

"They're just insignificant little kids, it's a silly thing to be angry about." He continues, and oh that gets a reaction out of you.

You turn around to face him, the boredom in his expression only making that anger bubble up more and more. You really can't hold it in anymore.

"Exactly, they're kids! Just kids, they don't have any stake in this. Why couldn't you let well enough alone for once!" You shout, and it feels so good to get out. Pettiness aside, you'd wanted to get it through his head since this all started.

You watch his face shift through surprise and annoyance and then flatten into an unreadable expression. It was unsettling to see, especially pointed in your direction. Still, you tried to stand your ground, though you'd never felt so small next to him. He lets the silence linger in a purposeful move, you're not sure why. It keeps you on edge the whole time, unable to tell what his next move might be.

"Dolly, they were in my way, I had no choice-" He starts, but you've had enough of the manipulation and sitting quietly.

"What threat are children to you?" Your voice breaks halfway through the sentence, tears you didn't realize were building pouring over your cheeks, "You are so frustrating sometimes. In what universe would I ever be alright with hurting children? Sometimes it's like you don't even know me!"

You don't realize he's in front of you until he's lifting your face in his hand with uncharacteristic gentleness. His face is still flat, but you see the worry shining behind his eyes.

"Y'know you shouldn't lie to the literal embodiment of deceit," He says quietly as he brushes your tears away.

You know you shouldn't, but you laugh a little at that, "I'm sorry. I'm just upset."

"No, really?"

"You don't get to joke around right now," you scoff with a halfhearted shove at his shoulder.

He hums, leaning into your vision so you have to look at him, "It's making you smile, though."

"Shadow Milk Cookie."

"Okay, okay. I get the message," He backs off, "Just don't cry anymore, please?"

You smile, "Maybe if you promise not to involve those kids more than you have to, please?"

He seems to think it over like it was a hard decision. He doesn't think much longer when you flatten a glare on him, "Alright, it's a promise! You can look at my fingers, they're not crossed either! I'll keep my word!"

You scoff at him, "What do I see in you?"

"My charm and wit, of course!" He puffs up like a proud cat, the usual grin back on his face.

"Just kiss it better you dummy!"

"Whatever you ask for, you shall receive, my little star!"

And kiss it better he does, until you can hardly remember why you were so mad at him to begin with.

[lynnieverse]

like real people do // drew starkey

oneshot

drew stakery x popstar!reader

synopsis: after a little slip up in an interview where you accidentally reveal your celebrity crush, things get a little complicated when someone starts meddling.

4.2k words

You knew doing the interview was going to bite you in the ass. Nothing good ever came from distracting you with puppies and asking personal questions. So, when the interviewer innocently asked your celebrity crush, you didn’t hesitate to say Drew Starkey. It didn’t hit you until afterward, sitting in the back of your car, debriefing with your assistant. 

“I can’t believe you said your celebrity crush though,” she said, eyebrows raised. Your heart stutters a bit and you quickly whip your head towards her. 

“No I didn’t.” 

“Um…yeah, you did.” Panic spiked through your veins, sweat beading on your brow. 

“Oh shit. Oh shit! Amara, tell me I didn’t say who I’m thinking of,” you grip her arm tightly, eyes pleading. Amara winces and looks at you with what could only be pity. “No!” 

Madelyn was going to kill you. 

You met Madelyn Cline a few months ago at the People’s Choice Awards when you were presenting. You’d instantly clicked and made plans to hang out the next week. Everything was going really great, and you were doing a good job at keeping your little crush a secret. Now, it’ll come out, be circulated everywhere online, and Madelyn’s going to think you’re some crazy stalker. How would she react to you having a crush on her co-star? Definitely not well. 

Amara places a comforting hand on your shoulder, smiling sympathetically. “It’s okay, Y/N, it’s just a silly interview. Nobody will take it seriously.” 

“Everyone will take it seriously! I don’t know why I started fraternizing with actors, I need to stick to my lane.” 

“Hey, why don’t you write a song about it? It might help.” You thought about it for a moment, feeling the familiar bubble of lyrics tickling the back of your mind. Writing always helps you calm down, maybe putting the feelings on paper would make them go away. 

As the car stopped in front of your hotel, flashes from the paparazzi’s cameras were bright even through the tinted windows. You sigh and grab a jacket, wrapping it around your head like a shield, and wait for security to open the door. You ignore the loud shouting as you dash inside, closely followed by Amara and the rest of the crew. Inside isn’t much better, but at least the other guests have the decency to leave you alone for now. 

You sometimes feel bad, often making it up later by signing a bunch of autographs outside, but right now you’re exhausted and embarrassed. The interview threw off your whole day, and you just want to lay in bed and watch trashy reality television. 

Your security escorts you to the elevator, and then does a sweep of your room before eventually leaving. Finally alone, you put on your rattiest and comfiest pajamas, take off all your makeup, and throw your hair up before jumping in bed. You reach for the remote to start your aforementioned binge, but hesitate over the little purple notebook you carry everywhere. Sighing, you know you won’t be able to relax without getting it all out. You dig through your bag and find a glittery pink pen, uncapping it with your teeth and getting to work. 

You’ve never met Drew, not once, but something about him just had you giggling like a schoolgirl. Witnessing his kindness through your constant internet stalking quickly proved to be a bad idea, because now you have a big fat crush on the man and he doesn’t even know you exist. 

Well that’s not true. Everyone knows you exist, but he would never think of you that way. Dating as a popular musician was not as easy as one might think, it’s often too much for people. The words start flowing with ease, filling up the cream pages in no time. 

Gleaming

Twinkling

Eyes like sinking ships

On waters so inviting

I almost jump in

His eyes really are beautiful. So blue, so warm. But the feelings you have aren’t logical, and they’re so exhausting. 

But I don't like a gold rush, gold rush

I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush

I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch

Everybody wants you

Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you

He’s the internet's boyfriend right now, edits flying around like crazy. You know dozens of people back home who are definitely salivating over this man. Something about him…you can’t put your finger on it. 

What must it be like

To grow up that beautiful?

With your hair falling into place like dominos

Every silly thought you’d ever had poured out onto the page. By the time you were finished you knew it was a hit. Grabbing your guitar you make a split second decision to tease your fans a bit. Unlocking your phone, you quickly open Instagram and go live before you can stop yourself. Your face pops up on the screen, thousands of people already in and commenting. 

“Hey guys! I just finished a new song and wanted to play a little for you if that’s alright?” You smirk, knowing the answer already. Of course, everyone starts freaking out and flooding the comments with different affirmations and emojis. You laugh, loving every second of it, before strumming the beginning chords on your guitar. 

As you start singing you let your eyes close, feeling each note in your soul, pressing every callus on your worn fingertips. The pacing is a little rough, still getting the hang of the new melody, but you know as soon as you finish that you killed it. So many fans are expressing their love for the song, already asking for it to be out on streaming platforms. Others are curious as to who your muse is, throwing out the wildest guesses you’d ever seen. 

“Chace Crawford?!” you exclaim, face contorted in surprise. “Y’all have a distorted sense of my ability to pull these men,” you laugh in disbelief. Your heart skips a beat when a couple comments actually guess correctly, but don’t react, knowing every single microexpression is analyzed. 

“Alright guys, I think I’m going to eat myself into a sugar coma while watching Love Island, but thank you for listening! I’m glad you enjoyed the song,” you wink to the camera before waving and closing the app. Covering your face with your hands, you fall backwards on the bed, letting your guitar rest beside you. You don’t even want to check social media, already knowing screen recordings of the live will be everywhere. 

Sometimes it’s crazy to think this many people care about your day to day life. The art you create touches lives across the globe. It’s both amazing and terrifying at the same time. 

Not wanting to start an existential crisis on a random Tuesday night, you quickly turn on your show and cuddle up under the duvet. 

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

By the weekend the interview was everywhere. You’ve stayed out of it, going pretty much radio silent in response. Many are asking if you’re secretly dating, if you were going to write a song for the new season of Outer Banks, if Drew felt the same way…it’s insane. 

You’d purposely put off talking to Madelyn out of sheer embarrassment. That man was like her brother and you admitted to liking him. Still, it’s time to address the issue head on, so you dial her number shakily. The phone rings three times before she answers, a sweet greeting sounding through the speakers. 

“Y/N?” You clear your throat, reluctant to speak. 

“Hey…” You wince at how rough your voice sounds, facepalming at your own awkwardness. 

“What’s up, girl?” Madelyn sounds normal, but you know she has to be weirded out by you. 

“Um, nothing much, just wanted to talk to you about something I may have said recently.” 

“Is this about the puppy interview?” 

“Yes?” Your voice comes out squeaky, nose scrunched. But Madelyn just starts laughing. You stare at your phone in confusion. What the hell?

“I can’t believe you finally admitted it, and during an interview? That was ballsy as hell!” You slowly start to regain your breath, brain processing her words. 

“You’re not mad?” 

“Why would I be mad?” she snorts.

“I didn’t want you to think I was using you to get to him.”

“Are you?” 

“No! Of course not!” 

“Okay then, there’s no problem.” A breath of relief escapes, and you put a hand on your chest. She’s not mad. 

“Thank you so much for understanding, I really love our friendship.” 

“Me too,” Mads says sincerely. “Now we just have to figure out how to get you two together!” 

Your eyes widen. “What? Absolutely not. This was not an invitation for you to play matchmaker, Mads.”

“Aw man, why not? I could literally get you both in the same room tonight.” Your heart starts beating out of your chest, feeling more anxiety talking about this than being on any stage.

“He’s probably seen the interview by now, it’s so embarrassing!” 

“It’s not embarrassing, Y/N. You’re attracted to the man, it’s not that crazy of a concept! Just give me a chance, please?” 

“Nope. I don’t want to bother him or weird him out. Let’s just do something me and you; are you in L.A.?” 

“Ugh, fine. Yes I’m here, just come over whenever.” You can feel her annoyance across the line, but ignore it. You’re not going to let her meddle. 

“See you then!” Mads ends the call, sending you back into your shame spiral. Every little thing you do is always picked apart and ridiculed in the media, and you’re usually a lot more careful with what you say. The interview slip up is going to keep you up at night for the rest of your life. 

Hours pass waiting for the appropriate time to head over to Madelyn’s house. You decide to dress comfortably, but have your makeup done on the off chance pictures are taken. The drive over is quiet, save for the initial crowd outside your house. How it’s legal for celebrities' addresses to be available on the internet, is something you’ll never understand. 

When you pull up you notice a Jeep in her driveway and shake your head. That girl is always spending money. Your phone pings with yet another Twitter update and you roll your eyes. How can this be the most popular thing in the world right now? You glance at the notification and see it’s Drew’s name that’s trending. Huh. Interesting. 

You decide to follow your instincts and ignore it, wanting to focus on girls night with Mads. As you approach the porch you find yourself nervous; even though she wasn’t mad, you still feel bad for causing such an uproar around her co-star. 

Three knocks later you're waiting outside her front door in anticipation. You find yourself shifting from foot to foot, tracing the cracks in the stonework with your eyes. When the door opens you look up with a smile, expecting Madelyn’s smiling face, only to be met with the very man that had haunted you the past week. You gasp, words catching in your throat as you stare. 

Drew was wearing a black T-shirt and grey sweatpants, his hair looked freshly cut into a soft mullet, and he looked just as surprised as you do. You can’t seem to close your gaping mouth, a pained sound escaping without realizing. 

“Uh, hi,” Drew says sheepishly, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. Eyes wide, you turn on your heel and speed walk away, leaving him alone in the doorway. You’re fumbling with your keys, cursing under your breath, when you hear a shout from behind you. 

“Y/N!” 

You almost make it inside your car when an iron grip latches onto your upper arm, yanking you back. 

“Hey!” you protest, almost losing your balance as you’re dragged back to Mads’ house. 

“Oh no you don’t, you’re not getting away that easily.” 

“Madelyn Renee Cline, let me go!” You struggle against her grip, but only cause her nails to dig in deeper. 

“You’re not leaving, Y/N, I won’t let you.” She finally stops when you’re once again at the door, but she doesn’t let go. Drew must’ve gone back inside, thank God, but Madelyn is glaring at you. 

“Don’t look at me like that! How could you do this to me?” You give her your most withering look. She rolls her eyes at you, only pissing you off more. 

“Just talk to him. I promise he doesn’t think you’re weird, or whatever you’ve concocted.”

“Well he might now!” 

“That’s your own fault, I can’t believe you ran away,” she snickers, pulling you inside and closing the door. When she finally lets go of your arm, you rub the crescent indentions with a wince. The girl has some nails. 

“Fine. Let’s go.” Mads looks taken aback, freezing in place. 

“Really?!” You give her a pointed look. “Right, be cool. Okay come on follow me, he went back to the living room.” Reluctantly, you do just that, trailing closely behind her. You’re a ball of nerves, and can already feel your stomach twisting to knots. 

Madelyn was right, he was lounging on the couch, absentmindedly scrolling on his phone. When he hears you two approach, his head shoots up and his back immediately straightens.

“Everything okay?” he asks, voice smooth and melodic. Your cheeks warm, and you avoid eye contact as much as possible. 

“Um, yeah. I just–you know.” You jab your thumb back awkwardly, not even you know what you’re trying to say. But Drew cracks a smile, looking at you fondly and nodding along, as if you make perfect sense. 

Madelyn’s eyes flit between you with a wide smile on her face. Not knowing what else to do, you sit down on the couch, as far away from him as possible, and stare straight ahead. Silence ensues, and you have absolutely no idea what to do in this situation. Thankfully, Madelyn breaks the silence. 

“So…want to watch a movie?” 

“Yes!” You and Drew speak at the same time, causing you to stare at each other shyly. Madelyn smirks and comes around the couch, forcefully sitting between you and the arm rest. You shoot her a what the fuck look and she simply shrugs. 

“I like the armrest! Scooch.” Begrudgingly, you inch closer to Drew, who pretends not to notice the entire exchange. As soon as you're settled you sit pin straight, not wanting to breach the confines of your cushion. Drew’s left ankle is resting comfortably on his knee, arm thrown over the side of the couch in what seems to be a very relaxing position. Mads rolls her eyes and pulls out an ottoman, giving you something to stretch your feet out on so you can lean back. 

It takes forever to pick a movie, suspiciously so, but it’s Madelyn’s house and you’re not going to say anything. Once she finally picks Avatar, she dims the lights from her phone and the three of you settle in for what’s going to be a weird couple hours. 

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

Everything was going fine, until suddenly Madelyn got tired at nine and decided to go to bed…leaving you and Drew alone. You mentally cursed your friend for putting you in this position, obviously not listening to the blanket “no matchmaking” statement from before. 

You glance at him from the corner of your eye and find him already looking at you. He quickly looked away and started tapping his fingers on his knee nervously. The movie had long since been forgotten and no words had been exchanged. 

“So…” you manage, turning to face him slowly. He smiles at you, running a hand through his hair and making his bicep flex. Your stomach does a little flip flop and your face reddens at where your mind went. Drew smirks like he knows exactly what just happened, but doesn’t comment. 

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.” His voice, oh my God. “I’m Drew, it’s nice to meet you.” He holds out his hand to shake, and you clumsily take it, feeling the warmth envelop your palm immediately. 

“I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you too,” you smile, swallowing the anxiety. 

“I’m a fan of your work, actually, you’re really good.” 

Your eyes almost bulge out of your head. “You listen to my songs?” Drew laughs and shakes his head, shooting you a look you don’t quite understand. 

“Are you being serious?” he leans forward a bit, surprise evident on his face. You scrunch your eyebrows, tilting your head to the side. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You’re easily the most popular musician of our generation and you don’t think I listen to your music?” You find yourself blushing, and a little flustered. 

“Well, I wouldn’t say the most popular…I have quite a few fans, sure, but not everyone vibes with all types of music. I don’t really know what you listen to, and I didn't want to assume anything.” Drew looks you up and down, seeming to size you up. 

“You’re not at all what I expected, Y/N Y/L/N.” 

“And what did you expect, Drew Starkey?” 

“Well, I don’t know to be honest, but you’re surprisingly humble for someone as successful as you.” You had actually gotten that a lot, although you didn’t think it was being humble so much as being a decent person. You’re still just the girl who grew up in a perfectly normal town, with normal loving parents and a wonderful home. Just because you make popular music doesn’t mean you’ve changed at all. Plus, you know it could all go away with the snap of your fingers. 

“I don’t know what to say, I’m just like everyone else,” you shrug. 

“I beg to differ. You’re…extraordinary. You have to know that?” There goes that damn stomach flip again. 

“Thank you,” you look down at your lap. “I could say the same for you. I love your projects.” His eyes light up at the mention of his work, making you smile in turn. 

“Thank you! I love everything I’ve been a part of, especially OBX. I met my second family on that set, you know?” You didn’t know, actually. Being on the road all the time meant limited options for friendships, and no time for the ones you did manage to keep. Mads is the first girlfriend other than Amara–who you employ–you’ve had in years. 

“Yeah, I love Mads already. I can’t imagine how fun it must be getting to work with your best friends every day…” your voice trails off. Drew seems to notice your shift in mood and decides to change the subject. 

“Hey, why don’t you play me something?” 

You immediately freeze. “What?” Drew smiles and stands up, searching for something. He disappears in the hallway before emerging a minute later with a beautiful acoustic guitar in his hands. You immediately feel a pull to grab it and start playing, but are still confused. 

“Here,” he hands it to you. “I want you to play me something…something nobody has heard yet.” You immediately start racking your brain and decide to take a leap and play something that could get you in trouble. 

“Um…okay. This is something I was actually working on today. It’s not finished but I can play a little.” You nervously pick up the guitar, but immediately relax when you feel the rough strings beneath your fingers. You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and try to forget the gorgeous man in front of you. 

In the middle of the night, when I'm in this dream

It's like a million little stars spelling out your name

You gotta come on, come on

Say that we'll be together

Come on, come on

Little taste of heaven

You manage to take a peek at him while you strum, catching him totally entranced by the sound of your voice. A little confidence boost flows through you as you continue the song. 

But you're untouchable, burning brighter than the sun

And now that you're close I feel like coming undone

In the middle of the night, we can form this dream

I wanna feel you by my side, standing next to me

You gotta come on, come on

Say that we'll be together

Come on, come on

Little taste of heaven

You strum a few more chords before stopping, silently waiting for his reaction. He’s staring at you, mouth parted slightly. 

“Another,” he whispers. Surprised, you do what he asks, pulling another unfinished song from the vault in your mind. This one wasn’t about him, not like the last one, but it still applies. 

I will not ask you where you came from

I will not ask you, neither should you

Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips

We should just kiss like real people do

You hum for a little longer, this song actually being one of your favorites. Drew is starstruck, an unknown look on his face the whole time. He seems to snap out of it and clears his throat. 

“Wow, Y/N. You’re amazing…those were amazing. Were they about anyone in particular?” You internally panic, because duh. But you don’t want to weird him out. 

“Um, the first one was,” you whisper, avoiding eye contact. You feel the couch move, and look up to find Drew right beside you. His leg was flush with yours, and he was so close you could see each and every freckle splashed across his cheeks. You also notice his eyes crinkle at the corners slightly when he smiles. 

“Can I confess something?” he says softly. You don’t trust your voice, so you nod once. “I saw your interview.” Immediately, the embarrassment causes your face to turn into a tomato. 

“Uh–about that…I–” You don’t really have an explanation, but you scramble for one anyway. Drew chuckles and grabs your hand, effectively stopping your rambling and making you redder at the same time. 

“Y/N you don’t have to be embarrassed. Did you see my interview?” What interview?

“No? I didn’t know you did one. Should I have?” He squeezes your hand gently and his eyes bore into yours. 

“It would’ve made this a lot easier,” he jokes. “They asked for my response to being your celebrity crush.” Fuck. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause drama for you.” 

“You didn’t, I promise. But do you know what my response was?” You shake your head. He hesitates for a moment before grinning, almost shy. “I said that’s a crazy coincidence because you’re my celebrity crush.” Hold the fucking phone, did he just say what you think he said?

“What?” 

“I think you’re beautiful, talented, kind, and I’ve always wanted to spend time with you. I didn’t think it was even in my realm of possibilities. Then you befriended Mads, and I thought maybe I had a chance…” Your brain must be short circuiting, because no way in hell Drew Starkey just said the feelings are mutual.

“Oh,” is all you can manage.

“Oh? That’s it?” he smiles, intertwining your fingers. 

“I’m honestly so surprised right now, I don’t know what to say.” 

“Say you don’t think I’m a weirdo.”

“I don’t think you’re a weirdo,” you shake your head. 

“Say you’ll go out with me?” his pitch rises with uncertainty, looking nervous for your response. 

“I will definitely go out with you.” Relief floods his features and he tugs you closer, pulling your legs on top of his. 

“That was terrifying,” he says, massaging your calf. 

“I still cannot believe this is happening right now,” you tell him honestly. 

He smirks, leaning in close. “Believe it, baby.” Your heart skips a beat, mind going blank momentarily. 

“I think I owe Mads a thank you,” you giggle. 

“Fuck that, I’m sending her a damn gift basket.” 

“You’re so right, she’s getting an album dedication from me,” you joke, causing Drew to poke you in the ribs. 

“Hey, no fair. She’s going to like that so much more!” he whines. You can already see yourself falling head over heels in love with this man, and that scares you more than anything. 

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game,” you hold your hands up in defense while Drew rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, let’s just watch another movie.” 

“Sounds like a plan!” you hear from behind the couch. The two of you immediately jump, scared out of your minds, until you realize it’s just Madelyn creeping in the hallway. 

“What the fuck?!” Drew yells, clutching his heart dramatically. 

“You were supposed to be asleep!” You cross your arms, glaring at your blonde counterpart. She sucks her teeth and shrugs, walking over and plopping down on the couch.

“What can I say, somebody had to get you two together.” You share a look with Drew, both of you simultaneously not surprised, but exasperated by her little games. 

“You’re insane,” Drew tells her, taking his spot back on the couch and throwing a pillow at her head.

“It worked didn’t it?” 

Yeah. You thought. It really did. 

[ghostmoon1]

My depression is getting bad again and I'm struggling with being social in general ig so have my ideas for the Task Force helping whenever your down and/or depressed, or have anxiety, like me :3

Simon Ghost Riley is the quiet type. He understands that sometimes when you're feeling down, you don't need to talk about it. Sometimes it's just nice to sit in silence, snuggled up to his side with your favourite warm drink that he made for you. He will let you process it, but as soon as you want to talk, he'll listen. He'll hold you close as you rant and vent, not saying anything and just letting you talk. He always has tissues next to him when you're like this for when the waterworks start.

John Price instantly notices as soon as you act the slightest bit off, even if you think you're doing a wonderful job at hiding it. Sorry love, but you're really not. He always knows. He takes your face in his calloused hands, cooing softly and kissing your nose, adoring the way you scrunch your nose and sniffle. He holds you tight, rocking you back and forth until he can hear your breaths return to normal. He never makes you talk, but his ears are always open for when you want too.

John Soap MacTavish is at your side instantly. Wrapping his strong arms around you, letting you cry into his chest. He hates seeing you so upset. If you allow it and don't snap at him, he'll try and make you laugh. Partly because he's unsure on how to comfort, but he knows its working when he gets to hear your sweet giggle. Relief instantly flooding his body, he just loves that sweet sound so much. He takes you to the bedroom, cuddling you all night and doesn't let you leave his sight once.

Kyle Gaz Garrick knows as soon as you're upset, even if you're on the other end of the house. When you ask him how he knew, he'd just say he had a feeling. He adores you with cuddles and kisses, doing small things to help you feel better. You feel like your hair is a mess, don't worry darling, he'll grab your brush and brush your hair gently. You're hungry? He'll grab your favourite snacks and a drink, and some chocolates. They're supposed to help, aren't they?

[solxamber]

Hi, this is For the Valentine's Event: Malleus, Romantic, "Loving You Keeps Me Alive" (Feat. James Barbour) by Frank Wildhorn (This song is from Dracula the Musical, I just love it so much, plus thought it matched him...)?

"The first time I set eyes on you" || Malleus Draconia

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: Loving You Keeps Me Alive by Frank Wildhorn

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 680

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Fated love, Love across lifetimes

In every lifetime, Malleus Draconia remembers.

The memories cling to him like mist after rain—soft but inescapable. A thousand lifetimes, a thousand different versions of you, and yet his heart remains untouched by time’s cruel indifference. Always, you return to him, a constant thread woven into the fabric of his endless existence.

In one life, you had met beneath moonlit skies, laughter spilling from your lips like stardust, while Malleus, silent and awestruck, had memorized every note of your joy. In yet another, you were a healer who pressed trembling hands against his chest, mending wounds you didn’t understand, while his heart bled with the unspoken fear of losing you again.

This time, though, he swears he’ll let you go.

You arrive in his life like the first breath of spring—warm, full of promise, unknowingly awakening the ache inside him. You’re not a noble or a mage of great power. No, you’re simply you, with laughter that spills too easily and eyes that catch his attention without effort. You stumble into his world with no memory of the lives you’ve shared before, and Malleus tells himself it’s better that way.

He watches from afar, the heir to the Briar Valley throne wrapped in centuries of duty and silence. But every word you speak feels like a thread tightening around his heart, pulling him closer to a fate he both longs for and fears.

You become his friend first—because how could he not? You talk to him without fear, without reverence, as though he’s not royalty or Fae but just… Malleus. You drag him out of his brooding silences with warmth, teasing him when he’s too serious, daring him to walk the line between loneliness and connection. For the first time in centuries, he feels alive.

But love, Malleus knows, is a curse as much as it is a gift.

In every lifetime, he’s lost you. Sometimes to time’s natural cruelty, sometimes to fate’s merciless games. This time, he resolves to protect you from himself, convinced his presence only weaves sorrow into your life.

And yet, how could he resist the pull?

The turning point comes late one night, beneath a sky thick with stars. You’re both lying on the grass, the cool air filled with the scent of dew and wildflowers. You talk about dreams—how you wish for simple things: laughter, love, a future without regret.

"Malleus," you murmur, turning to him with eyes full of unspoken trust, "you always seem so far away. Like you’re waiting for something terrible to happen."

He doesn’t respond, because the truth would terrify you. How does he explain centuries of loss, of watching you fade in his arms across countless lives?

But then your hand brushes his—soft, gentle—and it feels like fate cracking open.

Time stretches on. Malleus tries to stay away. You, persistent as ever, refuse to let him retreat. Every touch, every glance, every shared laugh pulls him deeper into the possibility of hope.

Finally, one night, the dam breaks.

He confesses—not with grand gestures, but with soft, trembling words. "You are the one constant in every life I’ve lived. But every time, I lose you. I fear I’ll be the reason your happiness withers."

The pain in his voice is raw, centuries-old.

But instead of pulling away, you reach for him, cupping his cheek with a tenderness that shatters his resolve. "If loving you keeps me alive," you whisper, eyes shimmering with a clarity he’s never seen before, "then how can leaving you be right?"

The world falls silent. It’s just you and him, two souls bound by threads older than time.

In that moment, Malleus realizes the truth: fate doesn’t curse him to lose you. It gives him the chance to find you, again and again, until he gets it right.

He kisses you then, not as a prince or a Fae, but as a man who’s waited too many lifetimes for this one perfect moment.

And for the first time, he lets himself believe that forever could finally belong to both of you.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[cutiefulism]

i’m a dog, i’m a mutt ▼⁠・⁠ᴥ⁠・⁠▼ caleb , lads

✦ ~ 1.1k wc, german shepard!caleb x reader, fluff, caleb n reader both being a little crazy abt each other, this wasnt meant to be so long (⁠ ⁠≧⁠Д⁠≦⁠) but possible smutty pt2?????

you don't even get one shoe on your foot before you hear the familiar, false lightness of caleb’s voice from behind you, irritation brewing just below the surface.

“where ya goin’?”

a sigh blows past your lips. you've been trying to find a cure for caleb’s, err. . problem for the past three days, and each time you attempt to leave the house, he's there to reel you back in with a pout and a grumble, big, dark ears flat against his skull.

sometimes, when you're really stubborn, he just drags you towards him with his evol, locking you in his big arms where you are meant to be and shoving his face against yours.

his hearing has gotten aggravatingly good.

you slowly turn to face him, giving yourself a few extra seconds to smooth the guilty wince from your face. “caleb, you know you can't leave the house like this. won't it be awkward to explain to your subordinates that you now have fluffy ears and a fluffier tail?”

the strict, cold colonel of the farspace fleet turned adorable, helpless puppy. what a headline.

his head cocks to the side. “they won't say anything.”

they know better than to say anything. just because he's soft with you doesn't mean that same kindness extends to everyone else. you've witnessed it first hand, and, honestly?

it's a little hot.

maybe you're just a freak, but it's nice to have that warm, gentle bit of caleb reserved just for you. no one else gets to taint it. not that you'd let that happen, anyway.

“that's. .” you bite your lip. “that's true, but that's not the entire point. this,” you gesture to him with a toss of your hand, and his brows furrow, “whatever it is that's happened to you, clearly has other side effects. you literally barked the other day.”

gotcha.

that makes caleb stiffen, his eyes locked on you as heat tints his cheeks pink, and you can't help a cheeky grin. his bark was pretty cute — a deep, firm, sharp noise that was directed to the poor guy who delivered y'all's pizza.

“that was an accident,” he says with a cough. “a-and only a one time thing.”

you kiss your teeth, still grinning, and he doesn't even let those words that he just knows will be teasing get out. “i’m serious! you see i haven't barked or growled since, right?”

he's had to actively resist the urge to, but you don't need to know that.

in a few short strides, he crosses the small distance between you, his arms looping around your waist and tugging you to his chest, big tail happily swishing behind him. it might be a bit harder for him to hide his emotions thanks to this transformation, but it's not impossible.

nothing is impossible.

well, besides him not loving you. that's very much so impossible.

“c'moooon,” he whines, and you damn your stupidly weak resolve right now. he shouldn't look so. . cute.

big, violet eyes peer down at you, plush mauve lips pulled down into a gentle pout, and his dark brows are practically knitted together.

to be quite frank, caleb looks pathetic.

but both he and you know that you like pathetic.

“i’ll be fine. you can trust me. always.”

you hum, and that mischievous grin melts into something more contemplative. “‘s not that i don't trust you, it's just. .”

“just what?” a pause, and then that wet puppy look is gone from his face, his signature smirk taking its place. “oh. ohhhhh. you don't want anyone else to see me like this. that's what this is about.”

. . .

“what?” your jaw goes slack, something like embarrassment creeping up the back of your neck, and caleb can just see the idea worming its way into your vulnerable little mind and taking root.

perfect.

you shake your head, and he only chuckles. “that's not true! i just don't want people bothering you in public! wouldn't you be annoyed if people kept coming up to you, asking to stroke your tail or scritch your ears?”

you're so obvious, it's both infuriating and adorable.

infuriating because — despite him informing you numerous times that he knows you better than anyone, even better than you know yourself — you still continue to hide things from him.

adorable because you look so pretty and lively all fired up, like a firecracker in the dead of a summer night.

“no, no. you're the only one who would be annoyed,” he says, and his hand travels up to gently pinch your cheek. “what have i told you about lyin’, pipsqueak?”

you groan and shove his hand away, but the burning in your face tells him all he needs to know. “i’m not lying!”

caleb’s hand simply moves to your thighs, and then he's hoisting you up with a grunt, thick arm situated underneath your ass. “you sure? your voice is gettin’ all squeaky. if i remember correctly, that's a definite sign you're lying.”

the smell of your perfume graces his nose, and he can't help but let out a tiny, content sigh. you smell so good — mostly your perfume, probably some gourmand scent, with just a hint of his own musk and soap. he'd prefer you smell a lot more like him, but that'll come in due time.

he's waited for years to have you — it won't hurt for him to wait some more.

your arms, like they have a mind of their own, hook around caleb’s neck, despite the almost petulant frown on your face. “i’m not a little kid anymore. and even if i was lying, which i’m not, that wouldn't be a tell!”

he snorts. “i think you're overestimating how much you've changed. you still act like the little girl who'd come crying to her gege because someone knocked over your sandcastle.”

your gaze narrows into sharp daggers. “and you still act like some flirtatious know-it-all!”

at that, caleb shifts you closer, rubbing his face into your neck with a soft smile. a flirtatious know-it-all, huh?

oddly enough, he's never flirted with anyone but you.

his lips press a soft, almost reverent kiss on your pulse. “for you to be so smart, you sure can be dense, can't ya?” he mutters, and his voice is swallowed up by your skin.

caleb would never betray you like that. no, you're all he wants, all he needs. no other girl will fill that crevice in his heart, something perfectly carved in the shape of you.

he pulls his face back, and his soft eyes meet your angry ones. cute. “i’ll be your flirtatious know-it-all for the evening, how ‘bout that?” and when you only continue to glare at him, he sweetens the deal.

“i’ll even let you touch my ears.” as if on cue, they twitch, looking fluffier and softer than ever.

. . hm. that antidote can wait a little longer, can't it?

sweats.

[bangchanswh0re]

୨ ‧ MORNINGS WITH STRAY KIDS ‧୧

Hyung line x GN!reader

Genre: Fluff!!

Content Warnings: kisses, slightly suggestive?

<Hyung Line> <Maknae Line>

‧ ୨୧ ‧ bangchan ‧ ୨୧ ‧

This man is a straight-up koala, and nobody can tell me otherwise. If you and him are comfy in bed after he feels a tiny bit of your movement, he is clung onto you like a lifeline.

While he's half awake and waiting for you to wake he’d absentmindedly play with your hair, twisting a strand around his finger or brushing it out of your face, mumbling something about how soft it is.

That cute smile he does omfg, he’d turn over to face you with a half-awake grin, his dimples showing as he leans in to kiss your forehead before pulling you closer.

If you move too much, he’d grumble something like, “Do I have to tie you down or what? Stay here,” with a playful pout and an exaggerated sigh.

When you try to leave, he’d groan dramatically, “Why do you hate me so much? You’re breaking my heart,” while pulling you back under the blankets.

Would praise your warmth sometimes, “You’re so warm. It’s unfair,” he’d mutter, burying his face in the crook of your neck as an excuse to stay snuggled up for just a bit longer.

He might crack a cheeky joke or teasingly ask, “Dream about me last night?” followed by a smirk when you roll your eyes at his morning antics.

If you try to sneak out of his arms to do a simple thing as using the bathroom? He will tickle attack the closest part of your body he can reach till you are back in his arms and not moving.

Sleepy nose kisses and back rubs galore is all I'm gonna say, I think we can all agree on this?

Will mutter small things like "I love you..." or "5 more minutes, please..." The whole time you're laying together and would not stop.

When you finally decide to get up. Just know the only reason is because his stomach rumbled, and he didn't wanna suffer from hunger any longer.

‧ ୨୧ ‧ minho ‧ ୨୧ ‧

He’ll pretend he doesn’t care if you’re awake or not, but the second you shift, he’s draping an arm over you with a lazy, “Don’t move. I was just getting comfy.”

Soongi, Doongi, and Dori are always part of the morning routine. If they climb onto the bed, he’ll lift them and say something like, “Look, they’re replacing you. Be jealous.”

He teases you for sleeping in weird positions but will secretly adjust the blanket to make sure you’re still warm.

He’s not one for dramatic cuddles but will scoot close enough that your shoulders or legs are touching. “It’s not cuddling; it’s just efficient for warmth,” he’d say with a smirk.

If you try to leave the bed, he’ll yank you back under the covers and mutter, “No. Too early. You’re my personal heater.”

Sometimes he’ll wake you up with Soongi lying on your chest and say, “She wanted to see you first thing in the morning. How sweet.”

When he’s feeling playful, he’ll start flicking your forehead lightly or squishing your cheeks until you groggily look at him. “There you are. Took you long enough.”

His version of affection is subtle—like pressing his cold feet against yours under the blankets just to make you yelp, followed by a smug, “You’re welcome for the wake-up call.”

He’s the king of dramatic sighs when you actually try to leave the bed. “Fine. Go. Leave me here to starve and suffer alone.”

Minho sometimes mumbles soft “stay a little longer” in the quiet moments, just loud enough for you to hear but soft enough that it feels vulnerable.

Sometimes, you'd wake up to Minho’s lips pressing soft kisses to your face,"Did you sleep well?" he’d ask with a smug grin, not even waiting for a response before he plants another kiss on your lips. He’d pull back, chuckling, “You should thank me, I’m making your mornings way better.”

‧ ୨୧ ‧ changbin ‧ ୨୧ ‧

Changbin would pull you close when he wakes up, squeezing you on a bear hug like cuddle, gently kissing your forehead and saying, “Good morning, love,” in the softest voice.

He’s the type to sleepily smile at you when you wake up, brushing your hair back and mumbling, “You look so beautiful this morning.”

His first instinct is to wrap his arms around you tightly and say, “Stay a little longer,” not wanting to let go just yet.

He loves starting the morning with a kiss on your forehead, then softly saying, “I’m lucky to have you by my side.”

When you start to move, he’ll pull you back into his chest and say, “Five more minutes. Don’t leave me yet.”

Changbin will make sure you’re cozy before he gets out of bed, adjusting the blankets or pillows around you while softly saying, “I want you to be comfortable.”

He loves whispering, “I love you” in the morning, holding you close as you both take your time waking up.

If you try to get out of bed, he’ll gently tug you back with a sleepy, “Where do you think you’re going? Stay with me.”

Changbin will take a moment to press soft kisses along your face while you’re still waking up, then ask, “Did you sleep well?”

When he pulls you into his arms, he’ll say, “We’ve got all the time in the world. No rush to start the day.”

He might do a quick check-in, asking, “Do you need anything before I get up?” Because he’s always thinking about your comfort first.

Changbin will let out a contented sigh and pull you closer, mumbling, “I’m happy just being here with you.”

His mornings always include a soft compliment like, “You make waking up worth it,” before he smiles and gently kisses you again.

If you try to leave the bed, he’ll pull you back with a playful smile, saying, “Nope, I’m not done with you yet.”

Always poking a small part of your body or kissing a random part of your body randomly without fail. When you question it, all he replies with is "your just so cute when you're sleepy, I can't help it!"

‧ ୨୧ ‧ hyunjin ‧ ୨୧ ‧

Hyunjin will wake up with a soft smile, the first thing he does being to reach out for your hand. “Good morning,” he’ll whisper, his voice still warm from sleep, before pulling you closer for a gentle hug.

Every morning, he’ll groggily ask, “Do you need anything?” with a sleepy but caring tone, always wanting to make sure you’re comfortable before he gets up.

He’ll lightly nudge you awake with his nose, like he’s trying to gently wake you up with affection. "Morning, sleepyhead," he’d say with a playful smile when you open your eyes.

Hyunjin will always pull you into a tight hug and rest his head on your chest for a moment. “Stay a little longer,” he’ll mumble, not ready to face the day just yet.

If you try to get up, he’ll lazily wrap himself around you, muttering, “Just five more minutes...” like he’s too tired to let go, but secretly wanting more cuddles.

He loves giving you soft kisses on the forehead when you wake up. “You’re the best part of waking up,” he’ll whisper, before gently tucking you back in beside him.

Hyunjin is the type to ask you how you slept and won’t stop until he’s sure you’re comfortable. “You slept well, right? Are you warm enough?”

If you yawn in the morning, he’ll do it too and then start laughing, saying, “We’re matching now, huh?” and jokingly comparing your yawns.

He’ll ask about your dreams, even if they’re random, just to hear more about them. “Tell me about your dream,” he’ll say with that curious and caring look.

Hyunjin will always make sure you’re tucked in, even if you’re both about to get up. “Can I fix your blanket? I don’t want you to get cold."

He’ll always be the one to get up last, making sure you’re completely cozy in the bed before he leaves. He’ll give you a quick kiss and say, “I’ll be back soon,” before reluctantly getting out of bed.

When he does get up, he’ll give you one last sleepy glance, asking, “Are you sure you don’t want to come with me? It’s still early...” He can’t help but want to spend as much time with you as possible.

If you’re still sleepy, Hyunjin will tease you by quietly singing some of your favorite songs until you wake up, trying to get you to join him in his little morning serenade.

He always makes sure to kiss you goodbye in the morning, but with a sweet smirk, he’ll say, “I’ll miss you, don’t get into trouble without me.”

If you complain about getting out of bed, he’ll laugh and say, “I promise you’ll feel better once you’re up, trust me,” while giving you a little nudge to motivate you.

Hyunjin’s favorite thing to do is randomly tell you that you’re the prettiest first thing in the morning, always catching you off guard. “How are you this pretty right when you wake up?” he’ll say, causing you to blush.

As you guys can tell, I thought of a lot for hyunjin :3

Maknae line will be out soon!!

[calebrity]

june seems too late

caleb (xia yizhou) x female reader (mc)

for your graduation, caleb takes two weeks off to visit. things don’t go like they should.

▻ cw. noncon elements, pseudo-cest, light smut/nsfw, dark themes, caleb is a yandere what’s new, lots of pining and unrequited love, characters are 18+

▻ notes. hey yall so caleb’s mullet is actually killing me in catch-22. anyways heed the warnings & do enjoy 🤍 you can read this on ao3 (username caked) if you prefer that :3 homeboy is actually insane but i love him he’s precious . 10k words slowburn buckle up. im planning to post lotssss of caleb, raf, and sylus stuff so keep an eye peeled!! :P

𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 + 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 (๑´ `๑)♡

June comes at a breakneck speed.

Before they step out the door, she’s fussing all over the wrinkle in her robe and worrying that the cap will sit weirdly on her head.

In the car, on the way there, she doesn’t voice any more of her fears lest they intensify, but Caleb spots them all as if they’re written on her face. She fidgets and does not notice the way he looks at her.

Probably for the better, he thinks.

When they part, he gives her a pat on the shoulder (as opposed to rustling her meticulously-styled hair) and tells her not to worry. She’ll do great. This is a big day for her; he pleasantly remembers his own ceremony and urges that hers will be just as smooth.

It seems good enough for her. She’s dragged off by her friend, skipping hand-in-hand, and her nervous giggles ring in his head in a building full of noisy people. It might as well be a little pin dropping in a quiet room.

Sometimes Caleb almost forgets just how much stock that girl- his precious little meimei- puts into him and his words. It stirs something tender in his heart, and then he recalls his true feelings and it twists. Twists like a knife or the bitter truth.

There’s only a couple years between them, and yet during her graduation, Caleb can’t help but feel a sense of pride tug in his chest alongside something deeply bittersweet.

She’ll for sure be spreading her wings now. She’ll for sure be leavin’ him behind.

And he’ll have to say yes to it, that it’s fine with him. Pretend like he doesn’t care. He’s got a natural talent at dissimulating his intriciate, troublesome feelings, but it doesn’t mean he enjoys it. No, sometimes he just wishes she’d… see him. See him for what he truly is and not run in the other direction screaming, who are you and what did you do to my gege?

But that’s selfish, isn’t it? He huffs with a small, wry smile.

While waiting for the event to commence, Gran eagerly watches the stage, and Caleb lowers his head.

She’ll be spreading her wings for real, an inner voice murmurs again, rubbing it in his face. And then she’ll fly away. Never come back to you. Leave our nest to make a new one.

That, oh, that thought— Caleb’s not a generally angry person, but that has choler flaring in his chest... Imagining somebody standing by her side that isn’t him fills him with a darkness he cannot label. But he’s trying to be good, a good older brother. He’s been… trying for so long, and…

Even if he knows deep down that if he doesn’t do something, she’ll fly away—

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Gran says beside him. She tucks her hand in the crook of his strong arm and he returns half the dimpled smile on her face.

Her words cannot be truer. His little sister is breathtaking; it’s the kind of beauty that will bring a man to his knees and plant soft longing in his heart. Evidently, though, it’s not the kind of beauty to bring a dog to heel…: she’s like a bowl of kibble and something rotten in him salivates at the smell of it.

It’s funny, you know, how much of a hypocrite he is. He gives her the saddest puppy eyes to get what he wants but there’s a big mean dog hiding in his heart. Barking and wanting.

Caleb curses himself. On the outside, he hums fondly. “Always. Hm… To be able to say I’m her big brother feels like an accomplishment in itself. I’m real proud’a her.”

Gran’s not looking at him; all eyes in the auditorium, including his, are leveled towards the stage and the spotlight raining over students shuffling in gowns. Caleb is thankful for that. Caleb has had a distinct self awareness since middle school, and he knows better than to let the love in his eyes- the kind that’s not entirely brotherly- reveal itself to any onlookers.

He’s kept on his toes by all the secrets he walks with. He’s kept on his toes by her.

“I can’t believe this day has come,” the elderly woman beside him (not tied to him by any biological means, but he loves her regardless) holds a tissue to her eyes and fights a teary smile. Caleb, utterly entranced by the familiar figure slowly inching closer to the podium and administrator, gives a noncomittal hum to show he’s heard, but his heart is knocking at the sight of his little sister. He can’t stop it. He can’t even slow it.

“Ah, my sweet girl…” (And why her sorrow-tinged, doting words echo some of the ones he keeps to himself, Caleb stopped caring.)

Gran, still not glancing at her adopted boy (albeit, there is close to nothing about Caleb that now resembles a boy), takes his large hand in her wrinkled one. Her free one dabs away an elusive tear.

“It’ll be even harder to see once she moves out and all. I’m sure she’ll want to keep exploring the world. I just… I just hope she visits more than you do, dear,” her voice warbles with sadness, but she’s only teasing him out of love.

A breathy, uneven laugh escapes his pursed lips. Caleb swallows thickly, “Yep. But that’s natural, wantin’ to find new opportunities and such... She’s really coming outta her shell, isn’t she? And… she’d better visit,” he says playfully, “The dinner table would feel awfully quiet without her during the holidays, huh?”

He’s not conscious of half the things he’s saying, operating under autopilot: robotically, he speaks in the voice of a teasing, somewhat protective older brother and nobody bats an eye to it.

On the inside, his feelings experience endless turbulence.

But he’d miss her if she left, that’s for certain. Words could never do him justice. He’s never exactly deserved that, though, has he?

He smiles to himself. Pathetic.

He told a nosey friend, once, that he had lost his marbles long ago. He’d said it with a smile- a genuine one, too- and as if it was no big deal. Because Caleb reconciled with his sin nature long ago.

He’s so proud of his meimei. So caught up by her.

Wants to marry her. Wants to blow all his pilot earnings on a big glittering ring for her precious little finger, wants to make all those childhood games, the ones where he played the dad and she the mom, come to life. Oh, if he’s being perfectly honest, he wants to—

“Caleb, honey, are you coming?”

A papery hand gives his bicep a gentle squeeze beneath his button-up. He’s pulled from his reveries and he blinks, noting the crowd as it begins to thin out and the stage that meimei has stepped off of. “She’ll be waiting for us, I’m sure. And nervous,” she explains with a light laugh, “but I think she’s very excited, too.”

(So excited to start your new life apart from me, huh, sis?)

The lower half of his face reshapes into a small smile as he looks down at Gran and nods with reassurance. He’s so good at providing consolation to others but somehow consistently fails to do so during his lone moments of self-reflection.

“I’d promised her I’d treat her to some ice cream at that new stall that just opened up,” he chuckles, and this time it does harbor some real mirth there, his eyes lighting, “I honestly think she was more excited for a special dessert than her own graduation.”

Gran laughs at that, too.

Then, he’s led away. Led to her and happy as a child.

After the ceremony ends, his very real fears of her suddenly leaving are put to rest for a moment when she leaps into his arms- just as she did when they were younger- and locks him in a hug.

He’ll always be a willing prisoner, in that regard. A slave to her affections and the strange sickness that rears its head in the pit of his stomach even when he tries his best to drown it.

She’s his lifering. The one thing keeping him afloat.

He looks over his shoulder, back at the shore. There’s a striking realization that he’s been dragged so far from it… And then he looks back out to sea.

Sometimes, Caleb thinks he’s closer to the point where the waves converge on the endless horizon than he is to dry land. And that’s fine with him. Because Meimei is holding his hand, doggy-paddling beside him.

He knows he shouldn’t try to drag her under. But sometimes, that’s all he fucking wants. For her to feel this way, too.

What a selfish gege.

✷✷✷

Caleb’s frame is hugged by an intense, golden light. Windchimes tinkle in the breeze and bring a nexus of soothing sounds.

The air is balmy. Unsmistakably summer.

You kick a pebble from your shoe and look over to Caleb with a small smile, his long legs keeping an even pace with you despite your slower one and all the dillydallying. The sun flares off one side of his head and it’s so bright you have to squint.

“It’s nearly time for dinner, you know,” even as he reminds you, he can’t fight off the grin playing at his own lips. It’s not exactly like he wants to truncate this moment with you, but hunger is creeping up on you both just as sundown is, and this brisk walk is urging it out. Your belly has voiced as much. After his laugh had died down, Caleb showed his concern but sighed when you brushed it off.

“It’s fine,” you tell him again. “I’m not fully dependent on snacks, you know,” and a dirty voice in the back of his head, a very dark corner, accuses, then what do you depend on? “We won’t starve if we eat one hour later... I mean, how hungry are you?” You poke.

(A lot. So much, Meimei.)

A casual smile curls his lips. Everything about him is so outwardly relaxed when he’s with you; it’d take some intense scrutiny to pick up on the little tells of restlessness he constantly shoehorns down inside him.

Anything to protect you though, right? Even if that means from himself.

He replies with thought, “Ehh… I guess walking a little farther wouldn’t hurt,” he shrugs with one shoulder, a teasing edge to his voice because those old habits die hard.

“Just don’t tell me to carry you if your feet start to hurt, pipsqueak.”

“Hah. As if! You know, I’ve been training a lot. Those hunter exams might even be harder than the Aviation’s.” Your light banter is rewarded with a small, incredulous laugh and a playful raise of his brow. Right now, he looks so boyish, youth lighting his face even as you pass under the tinsel-like leaves of a shady willow tree. “I’m serious, Caleb! My body’s probably more endurant than yours now.”

A challenge is brewing, and the signs are obvious. The anticipating glint in his eye, the slight posturing in his steps and the downright valorous grin you pin at him— all are suggestive of an upcoming game. He just has to throw his own hat over the wall to officially mark its start.

Of course, he does just that.

“Oh, really now?” He smiles and his eyes crinkle with amusement. He gives his head a tilt. “Are you trying to provoke me, sis? ‘Cause I’ll have you know that these muscles aren’t just for show...”

With a pout, you give his arm, thick and fully exposed under the frayed fabric of his tank, a harmless shove. Caleb’s heart has an anomalistic skip and his bicep tingles. It takes a considerable amount of effort to not snatch your little wrist up and force you to do it again.

“Oh, c’mon, you may be all big and strong now, but all that muscle will just slow you down.” (You’re getting him all sorts of riled up today, aren’t you? It’s good to know you look at him, that you acknowledge the man he’s become.)

“Do you wanna test that theory? We could do a race,” he suggests simply, a fluctuation of excitement in his voice betraying itself. “Because I’m ready to go right now.”

You huff, competitive as ever. “Oh, we’ll see about that!”

You roll your cropped sleeves an inch over your shoulders (as if to replicate his sleeveless tee) and Caleb watches with humor as they unfurl immediately. You dart your head around and land on a streetlamp at the end of the quiet, cobbled path.

”There,” you point, “that light over there will be the finish line. You have to touch it before the other person does or you lose. You’ll be a rotten egg.”

“You’re so childish.”

“You’re racing too, y’know.”

“Alright, alright,” he easily surrenders, lifting his palms up. Truthfully, he has no intentions of backing out now, try as he might to pretend he’s not equally invested in this as you. He sets his feet behind a crack in the paved stone, right beside yours, and nonchalantly prepares himself for liftoff. “But when I win—“

“Your toe’s in front of the line, Gege! Don’t think I didn’t see it!”

“—Don’t go cryin’ to Gran like old times and ignore me for the rest of the day, okay?”

A fleeting pink colors your cheeks, flowering across your face like a bruise at the mention. “Geez,” you deflect bashfully, “You’re so caught up in the past, Caleb.”

The accusation isn’t unwarranted. Your older brother has this strange penchant to keep all your childhood traits like a bag of tokens in his back pocket, forever ready to pull one out on a whim.

His gaze lowers for a moment at your innocuous teasing, and you watch with a mix of confusion and guilt as an offhand sadness weighs in his expression.

You open your mouth, about to find something to remedy the ever so slight shift in the air, but he lifts his head and his eyes are cheerful. Sunny and bottomless.

He looks at you infinitely. It’s as startling as it is endearing.

Your brow relaxes when you give him a once-over and sense no lingering sorrow there, or any evidence that it even appeared to begin with. Maybe it’s just the heat getting to you.

“Well,” he smiles, teasing to a fault. “You ready, or… do you plan on chickenin’ out? I’ll let you if you admit defeat right now. Otherwise, don’t be a sore loser.”

You wave him off and level your eyes forward. “Psssh, sore loser….” Thrill beats in your ears with a rushing current of blood. You plant your hands to the gritty cobblestone and lean forward.

“The moment you agreed,” your little grin sparks back to life, “you lost, Gege.”

Oh, and he is just the rotten egg, isn’t he? The perverted dud and the lying, selfish asshole.

The wormy apple.

✷✷✷

There’s just some things in life you can never quite wipe from your memory.

Here’s one: The first time Caleb was called a sister-fucker.

He remembers that day and how condemning it felt. Like he’d been made the object of some irrevocable curse. It was unwarranted, it was: some stupid playground bullies were mouthing off after he rushed to your rescue for the umpteenth time, and the word flew like a witch would on a broom. Caleb was not prepared for that stab in his little heart.

That was in middle school, and he was angry. Ashamed, too. All sorts of clashing feelings, really. Those little brats said the f-word in front of you, his innocent little meimei, and to make matters worse, Caleb was not sure if the majority of his anger should lie with their accusation or his inability to determine whether it was grounded or not.

He was hardly fourteen, then, and you were twelve. He never laid his hands on you that way. No, never thought about it. He hardly had the capacity to, at that time.

At that time.

But that moment stayed with him,… and that dirty, dirty epithet was one that remained around the block until one day something peaked in him- that shame climbing to its point- and he beat it from their mouths.

It never did end up getting back around to you. For a number of reasons, Caleb is glad for that. Just to name a couple: It saved him from the flaming red ears, and the awkward chat the bird-and-the-bees topic surely would have been.

When it got around to Gran, though…

‘Caleb, dear, is there…’ The elderly woman, for all her experience in fostering children, was not exactly sure how to broach the subject- which was oddly risqué, and downright horrifying it if were to be true- with her young boy.

But she didn’t think it was true: sure, the two were exceptionally close, she trailed him like a lost puppy and he had some underlying impulse to anchor himself beside her at any given time, but they laughed and played and Caleb was always the archetype of a- sometimes cheeky, sometimes clingy- older brother.

Their behavior was considered very normal for their circumstances, she’d thought. They seemed inseparable upon the first meet. With their close bond came the occasional spat and meaningless argument, but that only served as more proof of their strictly sibling dynamic, too.

Gran thought about it for only a moment before finding her peace, and shortly after her words.

‘Why are those boys saying such things? What did you do to make them have it out for you?’ She was gentle but firm with him. Caleb was not afraid of her; just maybe the awful, creeping feeling in his gut that told him he was in the wrong after all.

‘N-Nothin’, Gran… They got upset because I wouldn’t let them pick on Meimei… Don’t worry though, I covered her ears so she wouldn’t hear them.’

But it’s not like he ever imagined actually laying his hands on you— L-Let alone fucking. Even as a boy, he had the sound-enough subconscious to shut away those fleeting, invasive thoughts and put some space between you two when he was feeling… extra confused.

Caleb’s twenty-one now, though. And you’re nineteen and things are different. Those tender, innocent feelings of love from your shared youths- the one-sided romance of your bond- has by now fully realized itself. It’s bled out into ruby-red fingers of desire like watercolor on a page, and they grasp Caleb tight. Refuse to let go. He’s not a boy anymore. And he’s not particularly kind anymore, either. His softness is a luxury that only you’re entitled to but every touch feels like a beatdown because of it.

Yeah he might be overbearing sometimes but you’re just as abrasive. You cut him in ways you could never know.

But Caleb’s not a sister-fucker. He’s not.

And he’s not all the shame associated with that title and the big fat cluster of intricate emotions like guilt, loneliness, and terrible, terrible longing… H-He’s not.

No— He hasn’t even fucked you yet.

✷✷✷

Two weeks. Caleb is allotted two weeks off from his responsibilities at the Aerospace Academy to spend the start of summer with you.

Late June marks your graduation and the beginning of an exciting break the both of you had been planning for months to share. Between a taxing schedule and study papers that pile up if he so much as thinks about holding off on them, Caleb is a bit pressed for free time. He’d been counting down the days until he arrived back in Linkon.

Now that it’s finally here- your mini summer ‘vacation’, as you’d called it- he won’t take any of it for granted.

He’s savored every little moment with you since childhood- no stranger to the sentimental. But as you emerge from your bedroom with a cute bikini with a white frilly skirt that hardly covers your ass, Caleb decides this memory needs to be given a little extra care.

You flutter past him and down the hall, sheepishly nodding for him to follow, and he realizes he’s been staring a little too long without saying anything. He plasters on a nonchalant grin and sticks his hands in the pockets of his swim trousers. “Okay, sis…” He compliments in his tone.

“You, uh… you ready to go now?” He asks, propping himself against the kitchen arch to watch you pour yourself some water. He reminds that there’s juice in the fridge and you quickly forego the tap. He chuckles at that.

You try to hide a shy smile from him, too much energy in your heels to not sway as you move around the kitchen. There’s a small ball of nerves in your belly and you can’t help but feel a bit naked in your two-piece. You bought it because you’d thought it was adorable, but truthfully you feel a bit out of place- under scrutiny, maybe- as you uncap the fruit juice.

“I’m ready,” you announce casually. “But did you see my bathing suit?”

“W-What about it? Yeah, it… looks nice.” He answers a bit breathlessly.

You look over your shoulder before picking up your glass and marching over. His gaze flutters when you do, like he’s bracing himself for something. In stature, he’s nothing like the round-faced kid you grew up with, standing over six feet tall with lean muscle to hug his broad frame, but right now, he looks almost boyish with anticipation.

On the way to him, you stuff down that inexplicable kernel of unease. You pretend your pulse isn’t fastening, too.

A quasi reaction of fight-or-flight stirs in your chest. For the life of you you don’t know why. Maybe you don’t wanna know.

You smile. Gege, solid arms folded over his muscled chest, regards you with a strange look. It disappears under a veneer of brotherly charm— gone like a feverish hot flash of something unreal.

You stop a few inches in front of him. “See?” You chirp, piking your shoulder up for him to observe. “The red polka dots are actually apples. Since you like them so much.”

After a pause- one that seems to stretch infinitely but is actually only brief- you watch Caleb’s cheeks turn to rubies. Heat flares at his ears.

He sets his jaw and lets out a small scoff, eyes flitting everywhere. “W-What are you sayin’, pipsqueak? You got it… just for me?”

“Ugh, no, Caleb!” You giggle with a hint of disbelief. “I just thought it was cute but wanted to show you.”

With an annoyed pout, you spin away from him and head for the island. On top of it, a cooler sits, its lid open. You nurse from your icy drink as you wedge a variety of cold beverages and the sandwiches he made at the bottom.

“Yeah, yeah,” he recollects himself and joins you at the counter, coming to your aid without prompting. “Well, I think it’s cute too. But don’tcha think it’s a little… showy? I’ll be sweating bullets the whole time we’re at the beach.”

You laugh under your breath, only half paying attention. Certainly not to the intense glint in his eye as he watches your profile, anyway. “Why? And you won’t be sweating if we’re in the water.”

“I don’t want any guys gettin’ the wrong idea,” he lilts, but there’s a notable tinge of seriousness there. “Thinkin’ my pipsqueak isn’t off limits.”

A soft pink warms your cheeks this time. “It’s fine, Caleb,” you murmur, dutifully ignoring his gaze- which you are now exceedingly aware of. “Everyone’ll be minding their own business- they’ll hardly be looking at me.”

Wryly, Caleb closes the cooler and raises his brow.

“Doubt it.”

He seems as if he has a lot more to say, but apparently holds off on it.

When you return home, it’s close to five and Gran has finished her errands. She sits in the living room on the lovechair, holding a cushion on her lap as she watches the news.

You hardly have time to greet her on the way down the hall: you bump shoulders and race with Caleb for the bathroom shower. Maybe he’s going a little easy on you (per usual), but you’re too tunneled in on reaching it in time to scold him for it.

“Ladies first!” You say with victory, grinning through the crack in the door as it groans with pressure, halfway open. Caleb crams his elbow in it to show he won’t give up so easily. You’re met with his bunched brow, his sun-dried, messy hair and a grudging smile he can’t quite fight off.

“Be a good gege and wait your turn!” You tell him.

The title weakens him. His hand falters and you manage to shut the door. The lock clicks softly.

“Alright, alright,” his voice sounds muted from the other side. His footsteps, retreating down the hallway after a belated few seconds, emit defeat.

Maybe some frustration, too.

Either that, or his feet have just gotten heavy.

“But if you use up all the hot water,” he warns, “I won’t let you help me with dinner. Just remember that. And let’s be real, I know you’re hungry.”

Well, he has you beat there. Maybe he knows you just as well as you do him.

It’s an endearing thought, actually; as the warm water pours, you slough away the sticky layer of sea salt and the sand glued to it with a smile. Once these two weeks are over, you’ll go right back to your normal life: your brother will return to the clouds and you’ll have to pretend, between a steady stream of pining texts and phonecalls meant to check in on you, that you don’t miss your gege. Even if sometimes, all you want is to leap back into time and hold his hand, cower behind his shoulder to escape the daunting fear of growing up.

You have responsibilities now. Dreams you’re meant to follow. You’ll train to be a hunter and then officially enroll into their program. Caleb will become a bonafide pilot within a couple months, achieving his lifelong dream, and might leave you in his proverbial contrails.

It’ll be just you and Gran, until you pack your boxes for an apartment downtown closer to your future workplace. Family will become a distant memory, a fading speck on the horizon or a phantom pain that tugs at your heart.

But… maybe that’s just what growing up means. Letting go of everything behind you. Caleb would certainly be able to relate with the sentiment that- other than each other and Gran- there was little to hold onto in the first place.

But… You’re not so sure about all of it. Maybe you’ll have to ask your gege for advice around the dinner table. You have no clue what will happen a month or year down the line, and to be perfectly honest that terrifies you, but for now—

You’ll make the most of this break with him and Gran all together.

✷✷✷

Half of it flies by in a blur.

Movie nights with buttery popcorn and long strolls by Bloomshore turn into fuzzy lines as soon as you look back at them. Once-quiet suppers with just you and Gran are revived with the cheerful presence of your brother, and the cabinets are filled with new snacks the two of you buy on impulse to test out.

You chase him around your cozy, childhood home demanding he deletes those awful pics of you- and the woman who took you both in as children calls from the couch for him to stop terrorizing you already.

He always swears it’s in good fun, but submits to your whining. Not without a flick to your forehead, though. It never hurts, but you make sure to stick your tongue in his face.

Evenings are spent on the floor by the coffee table.

Caleb busts out an old, wooden box from the closet and speaks in a wistful tone as you pass nostalgic photos and yellowed notes between each other. You’re about to poke at him for being so sentimental, but you spot a little mist in his eyes, so you refrain.

There’s six days left, tonight.

Neither of you remind the other of this ticking clock of sorts, but sometimes it will get quiet after a bout of laughter and you think you can feel it in the blanketing tension— the wordless countdown to zero.

X amount of days until I leave for Skyhaven. And, X amount of days until Caleb leaves us again.

You can hear it snicking like a stopwatch- and not the one Caleb wears.

A fan on the floor cools the balmy evening, but just a little.

You lie on your belly- utterly stuffed from another delicious meal- on his bed while he assembles a model. It’s some aircraft that you can’t hope to remember the name of, but he’s always gravitated towards that kind of thing, in more ways than one.

You kick your feet and moan with boredom when his eyes take on a very concentrated look and he hunches over the figure in his hands. He pokes his tongue out the corner of his mouth, he’s so engrossed.

Many minutes seem to pass. “Are you almost done, Caleb? We were ‘sposed to watch a movie tonight.”

Without glancing up, he chuckles lightly. “Be patient, pipsqueak. You know, it’ll go faster if you help me out here,” he suggests, nodding towards a few wayward pieces on the edge of the mattress. He scoops them up before they call fall off.

”Or are ya just gonna watch me do all the work?” He looks up to you and smiles. It’s soft. Smitten, almost.

You huff. “Fine. Okay, I’ll help.”

“Knew ya wouldn’t leave me hangin’.”

Seemingly pleased, his purple eyes stare for a moment longer before lowering. They remind you of the nebula sometimes: all bottomless and resplendent, and sometimes they get a little starry if you catch them for too long.

You’ve seen them darken like black holes before, though; some deep chasm taking over whenever his protectiveness flares up or he asks you, with his hand held tightly in yours, who made you cry. Then, he’s a force to be reckoned with, devoid of warmth and sharp-edged.

“Caleb, can I… ask you something?”

Caleb glances up immediately. Noting the sobriety of your expression and the lack of playfulness in your tone, he gives a quick nod. He lowers the half-constructed model- the one his hands absolutely dwarf- as if it’s no longer important.

“Of course,” he says. He gives his head a little reassuring tilt. “If there’s anything you’re curious about, you can tell me.”

You let out a small sigh. “Will you visit again? Visit more, I mean?”

He blinks and appears contemplative for a few seconds. Yet, you get the strange feeling that it’s less him trying to formulate an answer and more like he’s trying to figure out just what prompted your asking in the first place.

“Sure, whenever I get time,” he answers with a simple shrug. “You know I wish I could be here all the time, sis… For you and Gran,” but mostly you, he doesn’t clarify, “but the Academy is no joke. I need to work hard if I want to get in.”

His endless scores of A’s and A-pluses reflect his convictions. It’s really only one subject he can’t find it in him to master: Those damned, annoying mental wellness checks. (He thinks that all those less than reputable scores— they don’t reflect him, they reflect you.)

He smiles. “Then, I’ll be able to really support us.”

“Yeah…” You sigh softly after a beat. “But, like… what if you stop visiting? You’ll find a girlfriend and then never come to see me and Gran again,” you mask your very real concerns with a weak laugh.

Caleb’s brow gives a little twitch.

His expression falls, then, like swirling grey clouds that nudge aside white fluffy ones. Something in your chest seizing, you understand it’s disgust that rewrites his pleasant visage.

You just… don’t know why.

“Why would I get a girlfriend?”

You stare on with confusion. For a moment, you feel stunned because you’ve never seen him make that face before.

It takes an extra second or two to lasso in your rationale and laugh. “Well, you’re like twenty-something now. Isn’t that just what happens? You’ll find a girlfriend and I guess I’ll find a boyfriend. I mean, I bet Gran will be happy too if one of us brings home some babies—“

A derisive scoff cuts you off. “Babies?” He throws back, peering up at you through long lashes. He takes on the perfect Kubrick stare.

The scathing sound of his voice and the shadowy look in his eyes is more than enough to zip your lips. “Don’t you think we’re a little too young for that? Besides, we don’t have to do anything right now… If we want to stay single, that’s perfectly fine.”

A few moments of uninterrupted silence pass and leave you with no choice but to reflect on your actions. You inwardly ask yourself if you did something wrong. It certainly feels that way.

You give your throat an inaudible clear. “I was just teasing, Caleb, geez,” you brush off his intense stare by looking down.

The aircraft model looks big and unbreakable in your grasp, a far cry from how it appears when held in his. You distract yourself from the startled beating of your heart by rotating it in your hand.

“Y-You can dish it out, but you can’t take it?”

You don’t meet his eye when saying that, not when he’s regarding you like you’re little more than prey or tomorrow’s dinner. No, you don’t dare to.

Gege is reliable by nature. But you suppose he can exhibit his fair amount of ‘intimidating’ when need be.

You feel an unseen weight lift off your shoulders (when they became cowed, you don’t know) when Caleb heaves a sigh.

He’s apologetic, “Sorry, sis. You’re right. Talking about it just… freaks me out a little. I mean, I barely have the time to even think about it, let alone prepare.” He pauses for a moment, as if waiting for your input.

When you look back up at him, it’s as if nothing ever happened. As if he never changed.

His eyes beam like indigo gems, sunny and unaffected. He leans forward to pat your head and it takes a strangely high amount of effort to not flinch under the weight of his palm.

If he notices, his mild expression doesn’t betray any signs.

“Why, what’s up?” He quirks a playful brow. “You’re not… Seeing someone, are you?” Caleb questions with a light laugh, hands moving to fold over the plastic plane in his hands, though his gaze remains level on you. Glued there like he physically cannot take it off until you provide him with an answer.

“Did my pipsqueak fall in love with some boy while I was gone?”

A harsh gust of wind escapes you at that. A laugh, you realize, or what’s supposed to be a laugh. You resume inserting pieces into place, adamant on building the miniature aircraft.

Your cheeks feel toasty. He’s managed to make you feel startled, ashamed, and bashful all within the span of a minute or two. It’s as impressive as it is whiplash-inducing.

Your gege is watching you very carefully as you lower your chin and purse your lips. “No…” you say sheepishly. “If I did, I’d be spending the summer with him instead of you,” you tease.

That proclamation rings loud in Caleb’s ears like a gunshot bang.

She’ll spread her wings, and fly away.

He should be joyous that there is still an absence of that ‘special someone’ in your life, that he indeed is the one spending the prelude to summer with you.

But all he feels is a lump of dread forming in his belly.

It fattens and makes it hard to breathe. She’ll spread her wings and fly away. Leave you in her dust and all the memories. All the love.

”Yeah? Well, consider me lucky then.”

Something in his chest plummets. Too rapid to catch it. Too monstrous to hope to.

He lets it sink. Feels himself going with it. It’s getting so hard to hold out, Meimei. But don’t look at him with those eyes of wide startle. It’s still the Caleb you loved from your childhood, your beloved Gege.

Just with a whole lotta love that you couldn’t even begin to fucking fathom.

…Six days. Six days left.

He’s been granted a final, measly six days to change your mind and convince you that he’s still got a place in your life, in your heart. That it’s reserved only for him.

An uncanny smile warps Caleb’s lips.

“I’ll always visit,” he assures. “And don’t worry, sis… Once I get a girlfriend, you’ll definitely be the first one to know, okay?” He chuckles, a pleasant sound.

A pretty smile smooths out the remnant lines of uncertainty in your face. “Okay. And… I can visit you in Skyhaven, too?”

Delirious excitement blips across purple eyes, his grin too bright.

“Sure,” he cheerfully agrees. “Even better.”

✷✷✷

White dots his vision like a light leak seconds before you barge in.

That tight knot, the one that had been wrapping his stomach in threads of want and frustration and need, begins to unfurl at full pelt, and Caleb quivers as it happens.

Those academy girls could never quite compete with his pumping fist or the swirling thoughts in his head he gets himself off to. But he supposes they served their purposes where they could— in those moments of foolish thinking where he thought they could heal him and needed to at least make an attempt. To clear his conscious, if nothing else.

(Spoiler alert, a humored voice in his head says dryly. They didn’t. And of course they didn’t. They were never his precious little Meimei. That’s no one’s fault but his own for believing he could get ‘better.’

No. ‘Better’ is you. It always has been.)

He’s learned from all that, though. Played all those games- and people- ‘til they tuckered him out.

Relief bowls through him. That’s just what he needs, isn’t it? A little help. He’s never considered these short-lived sessions of fucking his fist a way to summon pleasure, no- although that is very much present when he does- but rather as a kind of damage control.

He’s too pent up and needy. He needs to take the edge off, somehow, lest some of that frustration teems over when he’s talking to you and he messes up. Messes up in a way he can’t fix.

After all, he’s entitled to his own self-soothing mechanisms, isn’t he?

Or… what, is he just meant to deny himself of that, too?

Caleb bites down on a deep moan and shakes.

Pleasure courses through his veins and builds to a high peak, certainly not one he can hope to climb down from in the short time it takes you to run down the hall and into his bedroom.

“Caleb, guess what—“

And, you know, it’s already embarrassing as is, being interrupted in a personal moment and caught in such a compromising position, but what makes it worser is when it’s your own little sister who walks in to find you with your cock in your hand.

What makes it… mortifying?

When she hears you saying her name during it.

When she gasps, her eyes losing their initial glitter as they flit down, his cock gives a shameless throb and Caleb can’t decipher if the lurch in his belly is from disgust or newfound arousal.

Either way, he realizes his nakedness and scrambles to fold the sheets over it.

(Bit too late for that though, huh?)

With labored breaths, he makes a sound akin to a whimper, voice thin and pained, and lets his jaw hang dumbly.

You seem to cotton on to reality once more, because you finally take a step back- a shaky, belated one- and begin to retreat into the sunlit hallway.

Evening casts a cherry-orange glow on the white walls that flickers when you backstep into one of the beams filtering from the window. It makes you look fiery and almost hellish. But he’s a sinner. A sinner by nature and so you’re inviting.

(And he came to terms with his sin nature long ago. Sometimes it just feels like he’s waiting on you.)

His love— so deep and fervent, spread in the pit of his being like apple seeds, tearing him apart from the core— brings endless guilt, maybe, but not regret. No, nothing is regrettable about you. And he’s sorry, he’s so fucking sorry, Meimei, that he’s a monstrous liar and he desperately wishes it wasn’t like this, that you could see him separate from a brother, but—

He can’t stop. He can’t stop.

And there’s a certain instant… where he’s had to pause and really look at himself and ask if he truly wants to.

What he feels for you is suffocating. Like an eldritch river beast snatching his ankle and dragging him down hopeless, louring depths. But he pictures your face in perfect peace and wears your locket close to his heart. He loves you endlessly. Would do it all for you.

Just… Maybe pretending he doesn’t feel what he feels for you isn’t apart of that equation.

He senses your departure with a stab of inexplicable panic. “Meimei,” he quickly stammers, reaching out with his free hand.

His other hand, the one with wet, dripping knuckles, sticky with his own seed, darts to hide behind him, placing a proverbial cloth over his sin.

He has half the brain that already wants to mitigate this situation as it plays out in front of him in real-time, and he’s all but praying a ‘clean-up’ of sorts is viable here...

The scale doesn’t quite seem to be tipping in his favor though and honest to God, he’s not surprised. He deserves it if anything, for being such a selfish, awful big brother. Oh, doesn’t he know.

You look horrified, and you are. It feels as if you’ve been splashed with cold water. Your chest warms like a hearth and tightens, but your limbs frost over. Icy-hot shock keeps you moored in the threshold of his bedroom door with wide, fluttering eyes.

“Wait, don’t go, i-it’s not—“

A feeble lie. Wholly unconvincing.

You’re naive to a fault, that’s been true since you were kids, and too kindhearted for your own good, but this is not a matter wherein you can feign ignorance... It’s not one where you’re running into his arms, either.

No, you look… afraid as you back away from him. Like his arms come dead last on the list of places you want to be.

Paired with the mute horror is abashment. A vivid pink glazes your cheekbones and Caleb, guiltily, thinks you look very pretty (albeit, he can’t remember there ever being a time where he didn’t think that).

You recollect just enough of your composure to pick up your jelly legs and maneuver them out.

The door clicks shut and the sound is too soft to warrant the tempest gusting through his chest. His heart thrums at racehorse speeds.

He said your name, Meimei (or more accurately, moaned it), and you heard it. He came, and you saw that, too- fountaining over the backs of his fingers like white water rapids. You… saw it all. Saw him.

A niggling feeling stirs inside him. Filthy and blinding but brief. It passes like a car in the night, there and then gone.

A voice purrs to life in the back of his head, one of greed and frustration. One of miserable longing. He listens to it for a moment, and it brings him catharsis.

The loneliness constantly enveloping him like fog at a mountain’s foot seems to thin out, but just a little... It allows some wiggle room for a warped sense of accomplishment to settle.

Because you saw him.

(And isn’t that all he ever wanted?)

Slowly, Caleb licks his dry lips and hazily notes the twitch of his cock against his wet abdomen. It’s flushed an angry red as it crawls back to life, but Caleb tucks it under the waistband of his boxers and contemplates his next move.

You’ll be in disarray, in shock, in a boiling pot of disgust and the likely, self-sabotaging questions of, is this somehow my fault? Maybe he’ll even capitalize off them— screwed-up, pathetic gege he is.

But you saw him and there’s just no denying it and now there’s no hiding place for him either. Not anymore.

This truth… you can both navigate it together.

There’s a pulsating mix of terror, guilt, and scorching excitement that takes the breath from his lungs as he lies back down. Relief moves in a thin undercurrent in his blood, reassuring him that it’ll be okay. Somehow, it will.

Little devils perch on either of Caleb’s shoulders. He feels a very odd sense of calm wash over him. You saw it. So…

Do you accept it?

He thinks you might just have to. For your gege’s sake, if nothing else. Because Meimei, this has been killing him for far too long.

Relieve him, why don’t you?

✷✷✷

His vacation of sorts is coming to a close.

Caleb blinks, and a few days scurry underfoot like mice— too quick to stop or comprehend. He steps on the tail ends of them, but they escape anyway.

You’ve been avoiding him.

Stowing yourself away in your bedroom and locking the door just in case he tries to come in; you don’t exactly expect him to come barging in like you did, especially not after what you’d seen, but you’d rather be safe than sorry.

You’re not afraid of your gege, you’re not. You never have been. But these past few days have felt nothing short of hellish.

You tell Gran you’re not feeling well when she asks why you’ve been skipping family dinners. She leaves a water bottle by the door with a tiny orange pill on top and believes you.

Sure, you told your tall tale or two growing up, and Caleb always had your back when you needed to cover up a small wrongdoing, but this is… different. To pretend that nothing is happening right now- or that it’s all fine- would be more than just a white lie.

Something is wrong with your Gege. Terribly.

You… don’t know what to do.

You love him. And you hate him, hate him in a way you never could when he used to steal your snacks as a child or conveniently forget to unlock the attic hatch.

These battling feelings only serve to complicate the situation further; your stomach is a war-ground of guilt, sorrow, and a disgust that viciously razes your wellbeing to the dirt.

How could you do this, Caleb? You think to yourself, curled up on your side, nuzzling into a heap of pillows. You’re under the illusion that this was an overnight thing. That he up and decided just a couple days ago to do the unthinkable- the reprehensible- and vocalize your name in the act. You don’t why he did it. What he was thinking. But whatever the reason could be, perhaps you don’t want to know.

Your own Gege….

Anger beats in your chest. Fear, too- making your belly toss with sickness. Now the future is more blurry than ever, and the one person you always leaned on for counsel has all but spat in your face. That’s what it feels like, at least. Like betrayal.

Hours drag by and you fall victim to endless swarms of butterflies, but not the good kind. The anxious kind. They fly in droves and absolutely piece you apart.

Guilt lances at your heart as you curse him in your head, and you hate that despite it all, you still feel the undercurrents of love for him.

For the entirety of your childhood, he was your shield. Your best friend, your protector, and the one person in the whole entire world you could always count on- perhaps more than Gran- to be there for you. Your teasing but well-meaning older brother. Now, you realize just how strong that sentiment is, because it stubbornly remains. Even now as you clench your teeth and hold back tears.

It’s buried under layers of hurt, though. A feeling of betrayal that pierces bone-deep and spreads all over.

He’s sick. Depraved. A voice in a dark cranny of your brain whispers, bitter and scared. But these new, scathing adjectives you assign your gege are just as surprising as they are uncertain, because no matter how many times you mentally call him a sick monster, your heart sings a weak song against it.

No. No, he’s not a monster. He’s your Gege.

Maybe you can fix this, somehow.

Maybe… Maybe it was a misunderstanding after all! Some rotten delusion you experienced fueled by the summer heat and the humid haze of late June. Even if it wasn’t- maybe you’d just be content to pretend it was. You’ll seal your little pinky with his and he’ll make a vow to never bring it up again; you’ll accept a lie, even, if he says it never happened to begin with.

You’ll do it. You’ll pretend. The two of you will go back to normal and he’ll leave for Skyhaven and you’ll eventually send in your final admission to the Hunter’s Association. You’ll be accepted in and you’ll forget him. Forget him until he pays his one or two occasional visits during the holidays. By that time, though, you’ll already have gotten your new place and it’ll serve as an excuse to never have to fucking see him again—

You don’t want to see him again.

A little sob escapes you.

You feel sick to your stomach. Nausea churns in your gut like milkfat in a butterbell. You shut your eyes desperately to bat away a flurry of intrusive, bitter thoughts, but it hardly works.

How could he do this to the both of you—?

Could you confide in Gran about this? If you told her, would she find help for Caleb or spank him like old times-? or would she start looking at you with cold, repulsed eyes as if it was your fault?

Is… Is it your fault?

A sequence of knocks sounds at the door.

For how gentle they are, you really shouldn’t flinch so hard.

Your breath hitches. Your fingers curl around your blankets and tighten.

“Y/n,” the voice on the other side of the door is honeyed and low. You note the sadness in it and immediately wish you didn’t as a throbbing sweeps through your chest. “It’s…. It’s me. It’s Caleb,” he sighs out. “W-Will you… let me in?”

Your response is quick. “No,” you say dully, feigning meanness. “I don’t feel well.”

“What’s hurting?” He seamlessly chirps in a light voice, concerned. You’re just thankful he hasn’t tried for the knob yet, despite knowing you’d locked it anyway. “You still have your meds out here… I guess Gran left them for you, huh? Do you want me to bring them to you—“

“Just- go away, Caleb,” you manage to say his name, but it’s in a gritted, forced breath. Something in your heart does a 180 degree twist as the title leaves your mouth. A salty tear rolls in and wets your tongue.

You take a shaky breath in and try to mask your sorrow. That’s near impossible.

“L-Leave me alone.”

A pause.

For a second, you’re almost dumb enough to believe he’s turned around and left.

A palm, large and worried, presses to your bedroom door. “Are you crying? Meimei- let me in, please,” comes his fretting voice. “I need to see you.”

Meimei. The title, once wrapped with affection and warmth, sends a cold chill down your spine. You ought to open that door just to give him a black eye and a wake-up slap to reality. He needs that— and desperately.

A wave of anger, frothy and hot, rides over that feeling of disgust- but just for a moment.

You sit up in bed and sneer at the locked door, “I need you to leave. Go, Caleb! I don’t wanna see you anymore, don’t you get it?!”

It’s a strange thing, how you’re currently blind to his expression but you can clearly imagine it regardless: anguish bunching his brow as his whole face falls. You’ve seen that face before, and now you’re seeing it in your head. It’s paired with a very real, pained sound he makes.

You hate the guilt that hits you, barreling through you at the sound of his strained voice. Growing up, there was always a reason why he called you a cry baby, why Gran told you to guard your heart. Because it’s fucking weak. Prone to your gege.

He leans his full weight against the door. Fists planted there as he hangs his head.

“Don’t say that!” he forces out. “You don’t mean it. Let me come in. I’ll explain to you what happened— a-anything you wanna know. Just…” He pauses for a moment, exasperated.

“I only have three days left to see you. Don’t leave me like this.”

Three days…

You force your eyelids shut. Your nostrils flare.

“Please,” he says, and drives the final nail in the coffin home. Your, coffin.

You’re about to get up from your bed, plastering on a cool face as you prepare to untwist your limbs from your blankets. You drag one leg up from your sheets before a mental image- one you never want to acknowledge as real- stops you in place.

(Meimei, he moans. Meimei meimei meimei, nmmph—)

You stoop your head and cry harder.

“Dammit, sis,” his voice warbles opposite the door. “Let me in, you’re not okay- don’t cry, don’t cry,” he hushes, but you cut off his tender, admittedly effective tries at consolation with a sharp shout.

“Tell me,” you grit. “Tell me you didn’t mean it! That all of it was just some- some- I don’t know! Just tell me it won’t happen again,” you whimper, “That it never did.”

“Please, Gege.”

His reply comes quick. After a loud, shuddering breath that rattles the last of your wellbeing and oozes confidence.

“No,” he says lowly, assured. “It did. It did happen, sis. It’s been happening. You just… didn’t know.”

Revulsion lands a punch to your gut. Direct and vomit-inducing.

“N-No—“

“I’m sorry,” he interjects sadly. A very deep convinction bleeds into his words a second later, though, strengthening them. “I never meant to hurt you. But I don’t regret the way I feel. I love you, Y/n. I love you more than you could ever know. So… let me in. C’mon- Let your Gege see you just one more time, or will you send me back to Skyhaven without so much as a goodbye?”

Furious, you shout for as loud as your frightened throat will allow.

“NO! Leave, Caleb! I don’t wanna see—“

The door makes a sound. It echoes around the four walls of your cozy bedroom and you watch in mute horror as the knob, with the tiny slat lock and all, begins to turn.

Without using his hands, Caleb pushes the door open with his Evol.

He takes a proper moment before stepping in- almost as if preparing himself- something flashing across his face before withering away. You think it takes some piece of him with it.

But when he does take that first stride in, you get the cold, unshakable feeling that he is no longer your Gege, not anymore.

Some monster in him has been fully realized: it’s sloughed its skin- the sweet, doting face of your older brother- like a snake and embraced its scales. It can only crawl on its belly and it only crawls towards you.

(And now, all there’s left to do is place that apple in your hand—)

“It’s gonna be okay, sis. I’m right here. Gran doesn’t have to know. And if she finds out- it doesn’t matter. I’ll take you someplace else. Fly you far away, if I had to—“

“C-Caleb, stop,” as he nears your bedside, you demand your legs to move but they won’t- anchored in place like bags of sand. Tears path down your cheeks and put a chink in his armor; his brooding face faltering.

You know, just between the two of you, growing up, he was always a bit soft, too.

“It’ll be just the two of us and no one’ll lay a hand on you, I pinky promise. I’ll be a pilot within a month and get you anything you could ever dream of,” his quivering lips curl into a smile- a genuine, manic one- as he takes your smaller hand in his own and kisses the back of it.

You try to tug it away to no avail. You suppose he was right, a handful of days ago, saying his muscles weren’t just for decoration. If he wants to overpower you, he can, and that’s a terrifying thought you don’t want to believe in but it’s looking like you might have to grow out of this blind trust you always held for him. It’s looking like there’s no better time to start that than now.

Your lungs heave, “Caleb, what are you—?”

“Remember, when we were younger? you’d called me selfish once or twice,” he chuckles, a light sound. “And you were right, Meimei. I am selfish. But you should take a page from my book sometime, too. I’ll let you, ya know. Just say the word, and—“

Panic taking control of you, you regain feeling in your bones and launch a foot at him.

It’s seized, instantly. Suspended in midair— floating unnaturally without so much as a touch or grab. He’s holding it up, keeping you pinned beneath him, with his gravity manipulation skill and you realize with another sob that you cannot escape your Gege, not in heart and not in body, not ever.

His eyes trail to yours after a thick moment, indigo irises dancing with darkness, impatience, and the smallest beat of hurt. As if this pains him more than you.

What an asshole. A lying, selfish— manipulative asshole.

The sweet, kindhearted boy Gran raised to be your brother—

“Are you… tryin’ to hit me?” he laughs, lifting a deceptively flippant brow. “Hm, that’s alright. I can tell what you’re thinking, Meimei, that you don’t recognize me at all right now, right..?”

His fingers, long and slim, do close around your floating leg, then. They draw your calf to his face and he peppers a chaste kiss to it. It lingers and makes you feel sick— butterflies erupting in your stomach at the way he looks up at you, lashes framing a reverent look that borders on delusional.

Mortification settles when you realize they’re not just the anxious kind, those butterflies: Your body seems to be just as traitorous as the brunette hunched over you.

“But it’s me, Caleb. Your own gege,” you wonder if it’s a scoff, the little breath he looses, or something else, but he appears almost disappointed with himself for a fraction of a second—

Gone.

“So let me take care of you. If you don’t let me now… you’ll just be delaying the inevitable. Might as well just… rip the bandaid off, right? It’ll be okay, just have a little faith in me. I- I can’t keep pretending anymore. But it doesn’t have to end with you crying,” he reasons with furrowed brows, hands descending to pin yours to the bed and entwine your fingers with his. He hovers over you and nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, sighing with deep content. It’s a mockery of a lovers’ embrace.

But to Caleb, it’s the real thing.

“I want us to be happy. Just let go, Meimei. Let go and let me take care of you. I… always have, haven’t I?” He murmurs, lips planting a kiss- the first of many- to the thumping column of your throat.

(—All there’s left to do is place that apple in your hand, and watch you take the bite.)

[imagine-you]

If I Open the Door To Heaven Or Hell 3/? [Wally Clark/Reader]

Summary: Wally runs off to comfort Maddie and you decide to follow. What you see when you finally catch up has you making a drastic decision. Word Count: 1.9k Author's Note: Let me preface this by saying there is no infidelity in this chapter. There will be no infidelity in this fic.

Read On AO3 // Part One // Part Two

Things were going better than ever with Wally. After your rendezvous in the tech booth, you felt like you had turned a page in your relationship.  

You craved Wally in a way that was nearly terrifying to you.  

All you wanted was to spend time with Wally. You trusted him with every little thought of yours, because you knew he always wanted to know what was on your mind. You gave him all your quiet moments and he filled them with his presence. You had spent years feeling like your death had put a hold on living, but with Wally, you felt like you were getting a second chance. You had never felt so whole before and the fact that your journey through the afterlife had brought you here with Wally seemed surreal.  

You felt like you had built a little bubble that was just meant for the two of you. It was where you felt safe and wanted and you didn’t want to give that up for anything or anyone. Wally’s soft looks and gentle touches lit you up inside. You were happy in a way you had never experienced when you were alive.  

You always wanted to be alone with Wally, but your promise to help Maddie meant that you had to venture out and reconvene with your friends.  

You had agreed to join the others while Simon let everyone eavesdrop on the dinner with Maddie's mom and the others. The aim of the dinner was to get Janet back to the school and thanks to the phone call Simon placed, you were able to listen in on the landline in the library.  

It seemed like a reasonable enough plan. But it wasn't long into the call before Maddie was leaving, clearly distraught. Wally tried to go after her, but Charley suggested letting Maddie cool off. But you noticed the way Wally kept watching the door, as if he kept expecting Maddie to show up again.  

You knew Wally was a good friend to Maddie. He listened to her and always made sure to check in with her to make sure she was okay. You admired that about Wally. He really was the heart of the group. But sometimes you couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit jealous of the attention he gave Maddie. You had never had anyone like Wally before and you were terrified you were going to lose him.  

You got distracted listening to the call and the next time you looked up, Wally was gone.  

You tried not to let it get to you. Wally could be anywhere. It didn't hurt that he didn't even say goodbye. It didn't mean anything.  

You were really bad at lying to yourself.  

Once the plan completely collapsed upon the arrival of the janitor, you had nothing to distract you from thinking about Wally and Maddie and whatever they might be doing together. 

"What's got you so glum?" Rhonda asked, pointing at you with her lollipop.  

"It's nothing," you lied. "Just thinking about something." 

Rhonda sighed before leaning forward and placing a hand on your shoulder. She usually wasn't the touchy feely type, so the fact she was making the effort now surprised you. "Is it about Wally running off after Maddie?" 

You refused to look at her, knowing she would read your answer in your expression.  

"You two aren't as subtle as you think you are," Rhonda continued. "You think we haven't noticed the two of you sneaking away every opportunity you get? Half the time, we don’t know where either of you are, but we know you’re together. What else could you two be doing if not each other?" 

Your shoulders slumped and you had to concede defeat. You finally turned to look at Rhonda, dislodging her hand on your shoulder. "How long have you known?" 

"Since we met with Maddie's friends," she admitted. "I had an idea there was something going on between you two before that, but it wasn't until Wally got all worked up over Simon accidentally checking you out that I knew I was right." 

"Fuck," you sighed, not sure how to feel now that Rhonda knew about your relationship with Wally. And you were sure that if Rhonda knew, then Charley had to as well.  

"Oh, yeah, totally clocked that one," Charley chimed in with a smirk once he noticed you looking at him. "Wally's nuts about you." 

"Yeah," you agreed, ignoring the look of concern on Charley's face when it came out sounding despondent.  

"If you're so worried about it, then why don't you go after him? You'll see you're worried about nothing and then you can move on from there," Charley suggested.  

"Or you'll see you had something to worry about and move on from there," Yuri added.  

Charley shushed him while Rhonda shot him a disgusted look.  

"Read the room here, Russian kid," she chided him. "We're trying to cheer Y/N up, not give her a crisis." 

"I'm just saying," Yuri defended with a shrug of his shoulders.  

You knew Charley and even Yuri to an extent were right. You couldn't wait around just hoping you were right or wrong. You would have to find out for yourself.  

"Yeah, okay," you decided. "I'll see you guys later." 

"Y/N," Charley called, prompting you to turn and look at him again. "Wally's a good guy. He wouldn't hurt you." 

"I know," you said, even if you couldn't squash the denial that was trying to worm its way into your brain. Wally was a good guy. But he might hurt you. You didn't think on purpose, but there were other ways. And you didn't want to hide from heartbreak if it was waiting for you.  

You turned your back on your friends and left the room. You nodded at Quinn as you passed her in the hallway and set about trying to find where Wally had gone in his pursuit of Maddie.  

It took you a while to find them, but when you did, you wished that you hadn't bothered. They weren't doing anything damning like kissing, but the way Wally smiled at Maddie had your chest feeling like it was going to cave in.  

You weren't sure how they both ended up in the pool or why, but watching them splash each other playfully before Wally pulled Maddie into a hug and held her in the water felt like a betrayal. Wally wouldn't. Wally would never. But all you could see were his arms wrapped around her and the dopey grin on his face he got when he was pleased with something.  

You didn't know why it felt like he had taken a knife and twisted it right into your heart, but you suddenly felt like you couldn't breathe. It was stupid, because you were already dead, but all you could think about was that you had something good and it was slipping away from you right before your eyes. You wanted to turn away, but you were stuck watching them through the window on the door to the pool, helpless against the pull you felt to confirm your fears.  

 Maddie had her hands twisted in the back of Wally’s shirt, practically clinging to him like a lifeline. Wally had his chin resting on Maddie’s head while he talked to her. You couldn’t hear him, but Maddie nodded her head before pulling away just enough to look up at him.  

They were so close. Too close. You could almost imagine them kissing and the thought was enough to make you feel like you might throw up.  

You couldn't watch any more. You turned away, needing to take the hurt and ground it in something real. You didn't want to fight with Wally. You didn't want to fight with Maddie.  

Inanely enough, you wanted to fight yourself. You could feel all your pain beginning to internalize in an endless litany of you simply weren't good enough.  

You found yourself drifting from one place to the next before you ended up at the one place in the school you always avoided.  

The room where you died.  

A plan began to form in your head. It was stupid. It was reckless. Everyone would wonder what the hell was wrong with you.  

But that was just it. You had no clue. Because it felt like everything was wrong with you. One perceived slight from Wally and you had gone off the deep end.  

You found yourself going to the boiler room. It was where you had stashed your object. It was a denim jacket that had been your pride and joy when you were alive. It was covered in patches and pins of your favorite bands. You had loved collecting them and adding them to your jacket. You spent so long on the placement of each patch or pin, hoping to make the most of the space and show your love for the music that felt like it was speaking directly to your soul with every lyric and riff.  

You never in a million years would have thought that the object that meant the most to you in the world would end up being what got you killed.  

When you saw it after the others discovered the box of objects linking you to your deaths, you had stashed it in the boiler room hoping to never see it again. But now, there were scars to confront and answers to uncover if you wanted to get Maddie back into her body.  

And that's all you could think about at the moment. Getting Maddie her body so she would leave and Wally wouldn't fall in love with her.  

You had never been the jealous type, but you had never had anyone to lose like Wally before. It wasn't rational and you knew it was a terrible idea that would only hurt you more, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. You were lost in a haze of pain and so you grabbed your object and went back upstairs to the second-floor girl's bathroom near the pre-cal classroom.  

You weren't sure how long you stood outside the door watching the red glow around the door warning you away. Your own personal hell was right on the other side of the door and you didn't know if you were brave enough to open it.  

You had your hand on the door handle, but you hadn't made any move to actually push the door open. You knew your scar would make you relive a horrific version of your death. The memories you had suffered for years would become twisted and only torment you more than they already did.  

 Your resolve was starting to fade. You didn’t know if you had the strength to confront your death. Like Wally, your death had been quick. Over and done in just a moment. But the events that led up to it still haunted you.  

There was a laugh at the end of the hallway that tore your focus away from the door in front of you. You glanced over your shoulder to see Wally and Maddie walking in your direction. They hadn't even noticed you yet. Wally was focused on Maddie and bumping his shoulder into hers. Maddie looked up at Wally, adoration clear on her face, and you felt your heart break all over again.  

It was then Wally looked up and noticed you. You didn't even have to say anything. He knew what the room before you really meant to you. It was when his gaze dropped down to the jacket in your hand that the smile slipped off his face.  

"Y/N," he called, coming to a halt. "What are you doing?" 

"Is that--?" Maddie asked.  

"It's her scar," Wally confirmed before he took off running towards you.  

Wally was fast, but he was still too far away to stop you from opening the door and entering your scar. 

Author's Note: So someone requested more of the pool scene from the latest episode and someone else requested getting to see reader confront her scar and this probably isn't what y'all had in mind, but here we go. Yay, two-parter!

[fixyourwritinghabits]

Editing Part ????: Final Steps (That You'll Repeat)

HI THIS POST WAS SUPPOSED TO GO UP IN JANUARY. Uuuh things. Are happening. In the US. Alas.

ANYWAY, to wrap up our editing tips. Some of this you'll do on your own, some of it you'll need feedback on, a lot of it is going back and forth between various edits. It is a process.

Tone and Voice

In review, is your character's voice consistent? Do they remain solid as a character, or do they wildly change in how they speak and act in the middle of the book for no reason?

When it comes to tone, are you writing with a consistently used vocabulary and structure? I'm not talking about dialogue - does your story feel the same, no matter if it's in third person or first?

A tonal shift or word change might happen if you've been working a long time on a project, and that's just a matter of going back through the book to make sure things match up.

Tension and Pacing

Does the action rise and fall naturally? Are your characters given room to breathe when appropriate?

Have you resolved (or addressed) all your subplots? Did you leave any romance or relationships dangling? Are there any chunks of your book that feel like a side-quest that doesn't contribute to the rest of the plot?

How is your scene pacing? Like your book, your scenes can't be 100% tension - they need to rise and fall. Fights and action should build naturally. If you're dropping a character into a situation with no foreshadowing, or if they obtain some new nifty power without really earning it, you might be throwing the pacing off.

Again, this just takes going back over to see what little things you need to set up to make the pay-off worth it.

Line Edits

Hopefully you've saved this for last, I know you won't, I know I won't, but fiddling with the language is going to be better done at the very end. Look out for:

Overused Words and Phrases - I find with each project, I become overly fond of one particular word. It's useful and fantastic until it pops up a little too often, and then I need to work on changing it up. Same with phrases - if you're brain is like mind, it'll find a neat little turn of phrase and repeat that six or eight times when you only needed it once.

Hedging Words - Almost, nearly, not quite, seems, appears, etc - these words are perfectly fine in academic writing, but they weaken your descriptive work. Instead of saying "he almost hit me" for example, describe the motion and the character's reaction. If someone seems upset, how can you describe that through their body language?

Dialogue Tags - You can use fun dialogue tags, and you don't have to delete every -ly abverb attached to "said." However, as boring as it seems, keeping it simple with mostly using "said" and "replied" will do most of the job.

Re-Checking Sentence Structure - If all your sentences within a paragraph follow the same structure, your reader is likely to start to skim. Change things up with shorter sentences paired with longer ones. Chunk actions scenes with short, punchy sentences, make sure descriptive paragraphs don't have sentences that go on for way too long.

Feedback

There's no easy way to find a good critique partner. I wish there was. You can and should join writer's groups and offer exchanges, be they online or in person. Sometimes you can love someone's work, but you don't mess with them as a critique partner. It happens, keep trying.

When you do find a critique partner, it's always good to give them guidance on what you're looking for. Some good questions:

Pacing - When did they put the story down? Why?

Consistency - Was anything confusing? Did the character's choices make sense?

Plot - Where there any twists that were too obvious? Did the stakes feel important? Was the plot satisfying?

A Note on "Predictable" Plot

There is a consistent argument about predictive plots versus originality, but thinking too hard about it may lead you astray. Certain genres have expectations - cosy murders will be solved, romance will end with the leads getting together, etc. Readers often go into stories wanting some predictability, because it's the journey of the story that matters the most. Making sure the story is engaging to read is far more important than trying to be original.

That said, you'll find in your second and third drafts that you will be able to put your own design on familiar stories. Treading familiar ground in the first draft is common, but when taking another crack of it, you can raise the stakes and make that ending much more satisfying.

Good luck!

[captain-huggy-bear]

Um, was writing a fic, had a thot, this is my explanation why sometimes Clayton seems to only wear one chain and other times two... Thot: Clay giving you one of his chains, hence why he now only wears the cross. Possessive little thrill going through him because you never take it off and that's his. 18+ MDNI: Possessive Clayton because I would set Feminism back 100 years for him...but I know he wouldn't ask me to.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

It starts as a little thought, a little thought that grows until he can't get it out of his head. Niggling at him, goading him, following him everywhere he goes until it's not so little anymore, until it's large and loud and far too proud for what it is.

Just a little thought he has when he's leaning over you, your legs tight around his hips while thrusts into you, hips pressing into your own, sweat beating on his forehead. Just a little thought as one of your hands reaches up and grasps as his chains like they were made to be tugged on, pulling until he slants his mouth over yours in an all consuming kiss that's harsh and hungry. Just a tiny little thought that one of his chains would look so fucking good on you, that it would be so good to see you wearing his chain, showing everyone who you belonged to. That it would look so good round your throat while he fucked you, even better if he tugged on it the same way you do now.

That little thought spirals out of control. Your neck looks so bare without it, cold and lonely, a blank canvas. His marks aren't enough, the hickeys littering your skin not enough of a claim staked. It has him taking off the plain chain he wears, leaving his cross around his neck, and slipping it around your neck one evening after he's cum inside you, when the two of you lay there coated in sweat, chests heaving. Has him caressing the length of white gold against your skin and while yellow gold is your preferred colour he knows, can already tell, you'll never take it off.

It looks so fucking good on your skin, his chain around your neck, almost as good a look as when his hand gets to rest there, but better in some ways. Better because it's always there. You don't take it off. It's on when you shower, it's on when you sleep, you wear it all day every day. Every man who looks at you sees his chain. Every time you reach for it he knows it reminds you of him. He's with you whether he's there or not and it strokes a possessive sort of need in him to see you covered in him from head to toe.

It's only made worse when you combine it with a jersey with his name across the back, number 9 big and bold on the back and both arms, Keller in bold font that's unmistakable. You come to one of his games like that, jersey on, chain visible around your neck, cutesy little skirt on and big boots and it's not his fault he can't wait till you get home to get his hands on you. Not his fault that he pulls you into a little cleaning closet to bend you over and pull that skirt up, not his fault his hand finds that chain, tugging just a touch and makes you keep the jersey on so he can stare at his name across your back.

He wants to think you don't realise, wants to believe you're so innocent in this whole thing, oblivious and ignorant of the effect you have on him, but that is so far from the truth. You've seen the way his eyes darken, heavy lidded and blown out at the sight of the chain around your neck, at his jersey on your back. You know what you're doing and you'll keep doing it because you love being his, being consumed by him as much as he's consumed by you.

The only way to make it any better is a ring around your left ring finger, one more pieces of jewellery that screams to Clayton 'mine'.

[fucking-brains-out]

Is anyone going to contribute? no? ok imma do it myself  (also I changed Danny names in this since I think that his name has to be more Arabic)  Warning 1000 words 

bad translator of arabic

Danny thought that his life couldn't get more complicated but no, apparently being a half ghost means your afterlife is also weird, he had to be reincarnated into a cult involving corrupted ectoplasm, sure why not and to make it more weird he was born a girl and first born of the daughter of the leader and his Grandfather Ra  

Dalia Al-Guhl is his name here but secretly he calls himself Danyal (he liked more than Daniel to be honest) 

Even in his new life he still has his ghost powers but because of the corrupted ectoplasm is making him sick, he was going to be scarified if it were not from his mother who intervein in, now he is head healer of the league he is known as the Shadow healer (bear with me ok?)  the only good thing about of the league is his baby brother, his Akhi, his Najam, Damian  

Ever since he was a baby Danny has taken care of him, when his mother was in a mission or simply to watch him, he tells him the story of his old life, he told him about stories of his father that his mother told him too, when he was sick Damian make an effort in visit him and when he was better he would sneak Damian in his hidden space where he would watch the stars (Talia knew about the hidden space but wouldnt tell his father about it her dear Dalia had already too much in her place) he would bring him there with him and tell him about the stars he would call him his Polaris and Damian would call him Ursa since he was his big brother   

(“Why am I Polaris?”  

“Because you're my little brother” 

“I'm not little” 

“Yes you are look how tall you are”  

“Tt” 

“Hehe”) 

He would train with his mother when he wasn't sick, Talia despite the circumstances is a good mother, she always looked at him in a way that he knows is a face of proud parent (and if that didn't make him miss his mom) he has tea with her and trains with her, when he is sick he comes to visit him and take care of him (since one time an traitor tried to poison him, good thing he realized and his mother took care of them) sometimes she takes him to minor missions   (“Why do you always help me mother? I know there's a reason for that” 

He sees her pause  

Because my dear Dalia, you and I aren't so different”)  

He can't say the same thing of his grandfather, it makes seem Vlad like a minor thing, he is the fruitloop of fruitloops, he hates his grandfather so much but what he can do? Nothing even if his mother interferes, he has the final saying which sucks because his grandfather can be the most sexist motherfucker ever and a fucking asshole (it doesn't help he is a fucking immortal, when he gets all his strength back, he will brag his rusty ass into the Realms) he always make sure to get a challenge of sorts and if he doesn't make it he will judge him, he hates it, even if he admits he is very skilled that's not good enough for him  

He really misses Damian; he got really sick a time ago he couldn't even leave his bed, in that time his brother had gotten permission to go to their father Damian said he wouldnt go if he didn't come but grandfather prohibited, he was too weak and he still hadn't proved himself to the standards, mother also tried but it was final, he will not go, Damian was very upset but he consoled him that he could write to him anytime, he promised him that he would find a way to join him with his father. That was the last time he saw his brother, he writes to him to time to time but it's not the same and they know it, he is happy that Damian has adapted well to his father family (he also corrects him in certain things, no Damian just because you want to be Robin doesn't mean you have to duel Timothy, don't be mean to our brothers) , he misses him dearly he... he wishes to be there with him, his mother tells him to train more so grandfather approves him to go, but to be honest he thinks she tells him this because so he doesn't lose hope, but it has been 4 years he trying  to do more mission so grandfather can consider it  

Right now, he is on a mission, he has to dispose some traitors that are keeping the pits in restricted in an unknow location, grandfather says the levels of a Lazarus pits have been weird, so he sent him to kill the nuisances (even tho he knows that the pits makes him sick) mother would have go in his place but she was in another mission (how convenient isn't? Can you hear the sarcasm) anyways he is near the place where the pits are, the guards weren't that of an issue and it seem it as the leader wasn't here, but he still has to check the pits, he really hates them, he can't even filter them honestly- 

Time in 

He looks at shock at Clockwork, who he hasn't seen in so long 

“Danyal Al-Guh, Daniel Fenton, Danny Phantom, it's good to see you again” 

“Clocky” he jumps in his arms of the older ghost  

“Danyal, I have carried news, news that you won't like very much”   “What happened?” already in edge  

“There was an accident with princess Ellie, she was seriously hurt fortunate she was able to just retrieved to her core but there's a possibility of breaking” says somberly   The room got colder as frost came from his feet   “What can I do?”  

“You must carry Ellie core in your own, she will reform acondently but the consequences is that she will be reform as an human baby” he brings out his baby core, she has that light green color that she loves so much  

He, honestly expect it, its almost impossible to a ghost heal once they're retread in their cores and if they do reform it takes time  

“I accept” he touches his daughter core and it disappears from his hand, he feels her in his own, she is happy to see him again 

“Now Danyal, you must flee the League of Assassins their ectoplasm can damage Eli in this form, I suggest you go to your brother, be aware to explain the situation to Lady Gotham”  

He nods, he had already come to that conclusion 

“Can you deliver some letters? I have to explain to mother and Damian”  Clockwork nods “Of course”   

*Sometime later*  

He gives the letters to CW and banish, time begins to flow in normal again and flees the place, he goes to one of his hideouts and begins to prepare, he cuts his long hair and changes his clothes to a more comfortable ones, once he is done, he will go to Gotham 

“I'm coming home my Polaris”   

Prompt #12

Okay I have seen a few things of Damien and Danny being siblings but most of the time they are twins but that is not the angle that I’m currently going for since I do remember reading once when Danny was Damien’s older brother some time ago  and  I’m going to throw in some trance Danny misunderstandings with baby elly but a lot more interference from clockwork

so Danny was reborn as Danielle al Ghul and for some reason he was born female but he did not care since he could just simply proclaim himself trance when he’s older, he knows he’s a baby he still has all  his memories from his first life and his time as the ghost King but he sees this as a vacation  that will take an entire lifetime but a vacation non  the less one that finally will let him relax hopefully.

but unfortunately he was born to a family that worships a thing known as a Lazarus pit   a hole  of disgusting, old  ectoplasm that has become corrupted, not to mention he found out later he was born into a league of assassins, and these two things wouldn’t really be a problem since he still has his durability and enhanced senses so he could avoid getting killed, and  he thought  the ectoplasm  would not affect him but unfortunately due to how old and disgusting it was it was making him sick so from when he was a baby he was ill and obviously his grandfather saw this as a liability but his mother somehow convinced his grandfather that he might have inherited his biological father’s intelligence so he might be useful for something other than one day taking over the league of assassins, and that she would simply try and bear another child in order to get the perfect heir,

when Danny was 4 his mother gave birth to his little brother Damien who unlike him was not affected by the Lazarus water so was the perfect  heir in his grandfather’s eyes.

They both were still being trained Damien obviously because he was supposed to be the next heir of the league of assassins but Danny was being trained more in intelligence and healing but it does not mean his assassin training didn’t happen and to the surprise of everyone he was keeping up with his training  the only thing is his illness made it difficult for him to gain his grandfather’s approval since Danny would randomly faint or start coughing up blood.

Also despite constant attempts to keep Danny and Damien apart most of these attempts being done by  grandfather they had a good relationship and Danny had become the league of assassins head healer by the age of 12 and his grandfather, Ra's al Ghul could admit that Danny was not as useless as he once said but despite that Danny’s condition was getting worse, so much that by the time Damien was 10 and about to leave to go to his father Danny could not leave his bed.

okay so a time skip happens of 4 years and this is where I’m going to have to explain on how elly fits into the story, so something happens in elly  gets put into her core and while Danny is on a mission clockwork gets in touch with him again and explained the situation with elly and explains that she needs to be incubated a.k.a. he has to carry her like a normal human baby and Danny Seeing this is a chance to reunite with his daughter along with to get away from the league of assassins makes a plan and stages something that makes it look like he got (assaulted) when in reality all that happen is that he absorbed elly’s core,now for his plan to get away from the league of assassins

he writes a letter to Damien explaining the situation blaming their grandfather for the entire thing by stating that he had been getting worse and   grandfather had sent him on the mission regardless to a place that was honestly more dangerous than he could handle in his much weaker state and now things have happened ( he does not mention that he is pregnant technically since it would be too early to know that for a normal human)

Damien having lived for 4 years with his father and siblings had learned that most of the things the league of assassins did was not okay and receiving this letter from his brother that he had kept secret from his family because he honestly thought that his brother was safe and he did not see a point in telling them about Daniel, was absolutely furious how could grandfather do this, Daniel was a cherished member of the league of assassins she was the best healer, what would be the reason for grandfather to put him in such danger and then he would think Daniel had always been strong his fighting prowess was that on almost the same level as mother  the only reason it wasn’t better was because he was ill and to be honest if he was not ill he probably would’ve far surpassed grandfather,  Damien comes to the conclusion that grandfather was scared of Daniel and was purposely keeping him sick and putting him in dangerous situations just to keep him in line, Damien would not accept this and would immediately set up a meeting with his father so that they can rescue Daniel.